


What You Are To Me

by xevinx



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys got Problems, Canon? Don't Know Her, Developing Friendship, Enemies to Friends, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miscommunication, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Secrets, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, To More?, soulmate AU with a twist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:25:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 25,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11830608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xevinx/pseuds/xevinx
Summary: Besides their matching scars, Will Graham and Frederick Chilton have a lot more in common than they realise.





	1. New Beginnings and Fresh Starts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this is an AU set post-Mizumono, where Hannibal was arrested instead of him fleeing, and Abigail survived and went into witness protection. There will also be some other divergences from canon that will become clear over time

"Can I buy you a drink?"

Will cocked his head to one side, turning on his heels to face the man stood beside him in the hallway.

"Are we friendly now, Dr Chilton?"

"It's only a drink. _Frederick_ is inviting you for a drink. Say yes or no, just say it. _I_ need a drink."

On top of that he owed him, in a way; Graham's detailed testimony had been the nail in Lecter's proverbial — and potentially literal, dependant on federal sentencing — coffin.

"Alright." Will thought he could use a drink too, the relief of Hannibal's conviction suited a good, stiff drink.

They found a bar a block down from the courthouse, only just opening for the night. They were the first customers in, and that went nowhere in easing the awkwardness between them.

"Why do I feel as though there is some ulterior motive here?" Will asked as the silence became unbearable.

"Paranoia, most likely. Although in a way, you are right." Chilton nodded once, before taking a long sip of his drink, the same whiskey that Will was drinking. One thing they bizarrely had in common happened to be their taste in liquor. "I don't particularly want to drink alone. _Sue me."_

There had been enough nights spent in his empty house with only alcohol for company, but Lecter's conviction and sentencing marked the beginning of a new chapter for him. Frederick just had no one else he could herald that beginning with, over a stiff drink. Neither did Will. After the horrors that they had experienced, it only made sense that he, Jack and Alana had gone their own ways, their traumatic past buried in far too shallow ground to risk being raked over. Not that he minded, not that he was one to ever seek out company.

But there he was, having a drink with Frederick Chilton. _One drink,_ he told himself, and then he was off.

The atmosphere was strange, unfamiliar, that much was certain, but it didn't feel confrontational as it very likely could have done. Will didn't have it in him, couldn't expend the effort it would take to harbour all of the petty grudges that he could against Chilton. And he thought that things could just as well be the other way around, he could hold the past against Will too. They found themselves in an unspoken truce of sorts, a silent understanding that their mutual enemy, Hannibal Lecter, was far too culpable for them to be concerned with doling out blame amongst themselves.

"It's good to see you up and about again," Frederick offered, but he still maintained a formal air around himself, sat stiffly across from Will in their little booth.

"I saw the flowers you had left me in the hospital." In fact, they were the only ones he received, and as much as he would never have expected himself to be the sentimental type, it had meant something to know that _someone_ was thinking of him. Even if that someone was Frederick Chilton. "I didn't have your number, to call. But thank you."

"You're welcome." During both of his recent hospital admissions, Frederick had woken up to an empty room, confused and alone and numb with pain. No visitors, no cards or flowers. Nothing and no one. He wouldn't have wished that on anyone else. "It was the least I could do."

"No, it... it wasn't. I thought you might visit again." Not that he had wanted him to, or that he would have liked that, particularly. It was just one of the many things he had pondered while idle in that hospital bed. Being gutted had left him with an awful lot of time to think.

"I thought you might not have appreciated visitors."

"I probably would not have."

 _That was oddly thoughtful on Chilton's behalf,_ Will thought.

Then he noticed that both of their glasses were already dry, a matter which needed to be rectified as soon as possible.

"It looks like the next drinks are on me."

One drink became two, two became three and before they knew it, both men were pleasantly intoxicated, making conversation.

Frederick swirled the honey-coloured liquid around his glass, eyes focused somewhere at its base. He had needed a few drinks down him, liquid courage, in order to address the matter he had been meaning to broach for a while now. _New beginnings and fresh starts,_ that was his motto.

"Will, there's something I have been meaning to say." He fiddled with the corner of a napkin on the table in front of him, tearing the corner into small pieces. "I sincerely regret what happened, your stay at the hospital and although this won't count for much now," he finally met the other's gaze, "I do apologise."

Graham was stunned into silence. _Who was this person in front of him?_ It wasn't the Frederick Chilton he had known. Perhaps it wasn't difficult to imagine how a couple of near death experiences would do that to a man. Still, if he had known anything about Frederick Chilton, it was that his pride was paramount, above all else. This was unlike him; there was more to it.

"It does count for something," Will eventually responded, "and considering what _everybody_ believed me to be... I know it may have been rooted in your own motives but you _did_ help me. When everyone else... didn't. You actually believed me."

"Well, I... had good reason to. You were _right_. I only wish I had believed you earlier."

Frederick's eyes darkened and Will felt a chill pass through his body. _What was that?_

"We could every one of us wish that a lot of things went differently, but it doesn't change what is," he said with a small shrug.

"What goes around comes around, apparently. Karma, I believe it's called. A sick irony." Frederick recalled denouncing Graham as a psychopathic killer under oath in front of a court, just weeks before he himself was arrested on his own multiple charges of murder. "We've both felt what it is to be accused, too."

"Which is why I don't understand why... you didn't testify against _him_. I would have expected you to leap at the opportunity, especially now that he is under your care."

"The prosecution didn't need me for the case. I am not his primary psychiatrist." _And I wouldn't have wanted to perjure myself._

"You're not?" Will questioned, surprised at that.

"No. Being the administrator now, I don't take on as many patients."

"You were the administrator when I was there, and you still took me on. Didn't hesitate to testify, either." 

Will folded his hands over his chest expectantly. He wasn't backing down and in his mind he wondered whether Chilton was just trying not to incriminate himself after his foray into unethical practices. A gut feeling told him there was more to it, but he couldn't be sure of the clarity of his own thoughts after the amount he'd had to drink.

Frederick gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing. "What I went through at his hands, with Miss Lass as his proxy, changed things, of course. Conflicting interests, etcetera. I'm too close to the case." _Way too close._ "You did well on the stand, though."

Satisfied with Chilton's answer, for now, Will let it go, allowed him his evasion. "That wasn't difficult when he had practically no defence."

"The insanity defence. Which was beyond  _ridiculous_. Hannibal Lecter is one of the sanest people I know. _That_ – was what made him all the more dangerous."

"Watch out, you don't want to be caught calling him sane, or they'll take him out of your hospital and straight to prison. Saying that, I can't believe you're back working there already, it's –"

"It's what?" Frederick enquired, an edge of annoyance in his tone. "Hasty? Misguided? _Undeserved?"_

Will's tentative gaze only softened as Chilton's expression hardened.

"It's brave."

"He doesn't scare me," Chilton said with enough force to convince Will of the exact opposite. He realised that as well, and tried to pull it back. "I mean, of course I have one eye on him, but to a certain extent I need to wash my hands."

"I can understand that... I'm eager to do the same."

Most things from that chapter in his life felt tainted, for Will. Most people too, and places. Moving on only made sense.

And yet there he was, socialising with Frederick Chilton, and not having a terrible time of it either.

That was when it struck. In that lull of conversation Graham's mind drifted back to their last encounter, when Chilton had driven to his house, confused and scared and with nowhere else to go, but he had handed him over to Jack and the FBI. He had betrayed his trust, in a way, and Will experienced overwhelming guilt when he considered the consequences of that decision of his. He tried not to be obvious in the way he regarded Frederick's facial scar, hidden behind a light layer of stubble and, he suspected, a layer of make up. He failed at that.

"Thanks for staring."

"No, I – I didn't mean to!"

It was the most animated reaction anyone had got out of Will Graham in years. He felt terrible; his drunken gaze was evidently much more conspicuous than he had realised.

"It's alright. I get it from everyone who knows. And those who don't. It's quite _interesting,_ apparently. The formative process of scar tissue. The end result." Chilton's tone went sour for only the second time that evening, his otherwise well-tailored composure slipping, and Will felt another stab of guilt. Despite being quite used to overwhelming guilt in abundance by now, it still affected him.

"It has healed well, that's what I was thinking," he explained without looking directly at Frederick. "I'm sorry."

There was an uncomfortable feeling in the air. Neither could figure out quite where they stood with each other. How much bad blood remained between them, how much had been drained by the hatred of a common enemy. At least neither was the kind for false niceties, Will noted, so polite pretense was not something to factor into the equation. But redirecting the conversation away from this precarious topic, that was something he could do.

"Could I get you another drink?"

"I'll take a double, after that."

* * * * *

The drinks came thick and fast, and although they were drinking to celebrate, it felt more as though they were drinking to forget. There probably wasn't enough liquor in the world for _that_. The conversation turned to what could only be described as a bitchfest, on the topic they both had in common.

"That _fucking painting,_ in the dining room, Leda and the Swan, I'm sorry but _who_ needs to witness bestiality while having a nice meal?" Will asked no one in particular.

"Nice might be a bit of a reach. His food was ridiculously bland, anyway. Oh, Hannibal," Frederick picked up the salt shaker from the end of the table and waved it around, "perhaps you should try this rare and exotic spice? It's called _salt."_

He chortled at his own joke, a hearty laugh, and Will found himself smiling at the sound.

"Imagine if you'd said that to his face," he mused.

"My own flesh might have been subjected to his criminal underseasoning," Frederick replied dryly.

"Not that you would have said it, of course. You were far too  _enthralled_ by him, Frederick."

On Will's part that was a throwaway comment, far from the most offensive words that had been exchanged between the two of them. And yet it elicited quite the response. The slight upturning of Chilton's lips faltered, and he dipped his head in a sentiment that could only be described as shame.

"Hmm," he agreed, a touch reluctantly. Frederick knew that his evasion would be no match for Will's intuition, so what was the point in denial now?

"We all were, to some extent," Will continued, "but you, I suppose, respected him as a psychiatrist.  _Unorthodox therapy_ and all."

Graham was testing the waters, trying to gauge how much of a place total honesty had in their conversation — because he wasn't one for false appearances, especially not after everything. Being amicable now meant moving on but didn't totally erase past errors. To Will's mild surprise, this time, Frederick didn't react at all negatively.

"Yes, I made some mistakes," he admitted, putting his glass down on the table a little too loudly and locking his eyes onto Will's with quite some intensity. "I know that. I was far too susceptible to his influence, professionally _and_... There is an explanation, although I wouldn't want you to think I was trying to make excuses." He swallowed his hesitation, blinking slowly as his heart began to race in his chest. "It might help you understand, that's all."

Frederick leaned closer to Will, fiddled with the cufflink on his left sleeve and then pulled it up to his elbow, exposing his forearm.

Will was presented with a sight that was utterly familiar, only on different skin. It was identical to the birthmark stamped on his own side, albeit now hidden under layers and layers of black ink.

_Oh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again!


	2. You're Not All That Bad

**_H L_ **

Those were the letters on Frederick's arm. Everything and nothing made sense at the same time.

"Hannibal Lecter is my fated.. uh, my antag, whatever you might call it. Which might not come as a surprise to you, considering past events."

 _Antag_ was short for antagonist, a euphemism for fated enemy. A majority of people were born with only one set of initials on their bodies and no way of knowing which of the two it represented, although soul _mates_ were more numerous than the other kind. Then there were those with two marks and a similar problem. Bareborns were rare, with fates left open to their own making, but even rarer still were those with more than two marks.

Frederick shuffled back in his seat, the initials disappearing under his sleeve again.

Will managed to tear his gaze away and look up again. He could feel the pulse beginning to race under his skin, in his chest.

"Wait, so all along you could have known..."

"I did _not_ know," Frederick exclaimed too quickly, before lowering his voice. "No, quite the opposite. I thought that he may be the other kind of... you know, for a little while." 

 _Three years._ For three whole years he had thought that Hannibal Lecter could be his soulmate. The very idea would have seemed laughable now, if it weren't also so goddamn painful. But back then there had been no way of knowing which kind of soulbond they shared, and with his unique, potent charm, Lecter had duped him just like everyone else. In fact, much more severely than everyone else.

"Oh god."

"Yes." Panicking a little internally with the realisation of what he had just disclosed, Frederick was sure to tone it back a little. "Nothing ever came of it, of course. We were only acquaintances, really."

The last thing he wanted was to be the subject of pity. He couldn't have tolerated being seen as having succumbed to Lecter's manipulative tactics, having become his worthless pawn. Will could tell that there was more of a story there, there was something in the psychiatrist's voice that indicated deeper hurt. It had something to do with those unorthodox therapies Chilton had once adopted, that much was certain, but he didn't particularly want to continue with that line of conversation himself either.

"Do you think he knew?" Will asked instead.

"I think he must have done."

Frederick knew full well that Hannibal had seen the mark, but he wasn't going to divulge that.

"Wouldn't he have been cautious, then? He would have known that you were going to end up as antags."

Chilton chuckled bitterly, grimacing as he took another sizable gulp of his drink, "I don't think he saw me as anything of a threat." Much more of a _plaything,_ he thought, but he couldn't quite vocalise that.

"Knowing that now, I think that I understand your choice to resume your position at the hospital, to stay alert," Will explained. "It's a way to make him know without a doubt that you won."

"Something like that," Frederick sighed, propping his arm up on the table and resting his chin in his hand. Of course it had taken very little effort for Will to wrap his head around his motives. "So, what's your plan then?"

Even as those words left his lips Frederick had been aware that Will could have an adverse reaction to that question. This time it was his turn to test the waters, to see if Will would view that question as a classic case of his prying, or the polite wondering it was.

The result? Graham remained just as calm as before, unfazed. And willing to speak honestly.

"Honestly? I don't have a plan. I have been paid certain damages by the FBI, as I assume you have too. I'm good at saving money as well, so I should be alright for a while." 

"Oh."

"I need space from that world, you know? It chewed me up and spat me out."

Now that Frederick had done the same, it felt easier to open up to him a little in response. But what Graham didn't say was that at this point, he wasn't sure if he'd ever be able — and stable enough — to return. He didn't know if he even wanted to, as selfish as that doubt felt to him when there were countless lives out there that he could be saving.

"I know the feeling," Frederick admitted. 

And he did. Will was beginning to see something different in Frederick Chilton, beginning to feel a sense of shared victimhood between them. Still, seven drinks down now, Will found it in himself to make a sensible decision and end the pity fest.

"I should probably head home soon, it'll take a while –"

"You'll struggle hailing a cab to Wolf Trap at this time of night."

"Oh shit, it really is late." Not only was it going to be difficult to catch a cab, Will realised, it was also going to cost him dearly.

"I'm only ten minutes away, and I have a spare room."

"You don't... don't have to do that."

"It's not a big deal." He swatted away Will's reluctance. "Don't make it one."

And so after a short taxi ride, far from secure on his feet, Will Graham found himself all but stumbling into Frederick Chilton's house. He had only moved in recently, that much was patently obvious from the cardboard boxes scattered here and there and the smell of fresh paint that permeated the air. From what he could see, the place was relatively small compared to what he would have expected, and cosier too, decorated with warm, homely colours. They stood at the base of the stairs, ready to ascend them and seek slumber, but Frederick stopped Will from going up.

"Wait, uh, before you..." 

He stepped closer and closer — and for a split second a tiny part of Will wondered whether Frederick was planning to make some kind of a move. There was something captivating about the way that he had looked at him that night, something hidden in his eyes.

But no, it was one of those rare times that he was wrong in judging another's motive. Frederick walked right past him and into the kitchen, muttering "Just wait one minute."

Will heard heels clicking against the kitchen tiles, heard water running and within moments Frederick appeared again.

"You'll want to drink this." It was a large, probably pint glass full of water, almost right to the brim. "Might help you avoid a nasty hangover." 

Chilton stood and watched as Will made his way to the bottom of the glass, then took it from his hand again. A soft smile had settled on his lips and Graham couldn't help but smile himself in reciprocation.

"You know, Frederick, you're not all that bad," he thought aloud, mouth running faster than his mind — which took a few seconds to regret the way that those words came out.

Luckily for Will, Frederick didn't seem to take offence at that — most likely because of his own intoxication. "Coming from you, _Mr Graham,_ I think that's almost a compliment."

* * * * *

The next morning, Will found Frederick in the kitchen, already showered and dressed, cooking what smelled like pancakes or waffles.

"Good morning."

"Oh, uh, good morning."

Frederick turned around from the stove, spatula in hand. He knew that Graham was in the house with him, of course, but so used to being greeted with silence and empty rooms, actually seeing him stood in the doorway threw him a little. His hair was dishevelled, eyes all sleepy, his voice slightly rough, husky. Okay, so maybe Frederick had this slight, little, meaningless attraction to Will Graham. It wasn't anything substantial, of course not — Frederick just appreciated the male form. Not that he ever did or ever would indulge the thought that something might come of that.

"Hungover?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"Just a little bit," Will admitted as he took a seat at the breakfast bar. "You?"

"I never get hangovers," Frederick explained with pride in his voice, turning to plate up their breakfast, which Will saw now was in fact pancakes.

"I feel spoiled; I never cook a proper breakfast."

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day," Frederick lectured, handing Will his plate. Classic Chilton, but that didn't annoy him as it might have done some time earlier.

They ate and drank their coffee without making conversation, both in dire need of a caffeine boost.

Once he was feeling more awake, _present,_ Will carefully broached the matter they had discussed the night before. "So... yesterday was... enlightening, I suppose."

Frederick closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds, then looked up slowly.

"I may have shared a little too much; I apologise on behalf of my intoxicated self."

"No, don't. Uh, in fact, I feel as though I should be honest with you..."

This was hardly a comfortable conversation to have under the influence, much less sober and not exactly well-rested. But Will felt as though he had intruded by finding out about Frederick's soulmark, because even though he had divulged that information himself, he had been under the influence of quite a large amount of alcohol. The irony was not lost on him; how he felt as though he had invaded Chilton's privacy when once upon a time, Chilton had made it something of a personal mission to invade Will's.

"I have the same initials. _H L_. They were on my side but I had them covered up after he was arrested."

Will Graham had never had it in him to care about finding fabled soulbonds. He believed that you had to engage with the thing, you had to let it guide you. He chose not to. He didn't actually look at the initials more than what, once a year? Usually by accident. His mind was invaded by far too much else to dwell on the alien matter of soulbonds. 

Chilton covered his mouth in shock and mumbled through his fingers. "What did you think when you met him? Did you also...?"

What was he saying? Will wasn't gay... Frederick had heard about his little thing with Alana Bloom through the grapevine, so he had always assumed...

"Fleetingly, yes, I did. As much as I told myself I didn't care about soulmarks and soulbonds, the thought did cross my mind," Graham confessed. Hannibal had made him feel understood, after all, and being truly understood was one of the purest forms of love.

_Wow._

"Did it remain in only your mind or reach further?" Frederick enquired over the rim of his mug of coffee, and Will looked shell shocked. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry. It's just — old habits die hard, I suppose."

"That they do." Will wasn't really sure why he was opening up to such an extent with Chilton, why it felt natural to do so. Perhaps sharing those letters etched on their bodies tied them together, in some way. "No, we never... anything. It didn't reach that point, thank god." 

Frederick let out a sigh of pure relief, but the exact sentiment at its source alluded even him.

"In a way," Will added, "I am glad about our... _semi_ -professional relationship, because it provided some hindrance to the development of a much more personal one."

"His intentions with you were always different."

"Hmm." Will neglected to acknowledge that Hannibal's intentions had most likely been different with him compared to with Frederick, because he very much _had_ seen _him_ as a threat. There was no point rubbing salt in the other's wounds.

"Having your mark covered must have been painful," Frederick noted. Soulbond marks were notoriously difficult to fight against, to hide by tattoo coverage. He had considered doing the same, but had concluded that he had been through enough pain to inflict more on himself willingly. Not that Frederick didn't loathe those two little letters etched into his skin. In fact he couldn't decide what he hated more, those or the multitude of scars and deformities he now bore. There was plenty of ill feeling to go around, it seemed.

"It was rather symbolic, for me, I suppose," Will explained, snapping Chilton back out of his thoughts. "I had never really believed in the power of soulbonds." Believe it or not, soulbonds were truth. They could be resisted, but never erased completely, however much one might try. Will _really_ tried. "Besides, with him, it's over, right?"

Frederick understood Will's cynicism well, he had adopted a form of that himself, but he still believed that one couldn't forget completely, that simply wasn't possible.

"Yes, but, I mean, you still _know_. It's not something you forget."

Chilton was right, to an extent. Will  knew that all too well, but he couldn't admit it even to himself. Funnily enough he started to think about it right then, he started playing with probabilities and percentages. He tried to push them back to a dark corner of his mind where they belonged, from where he hoped they would have no influence on him. It wasn't as easy as he'd have liked.

Oblivious to Will's inner conflict, Frederick kept speaking. "He doesn't have any marks, you know. He's a bareborn."

"Convenient." In that moment, too focused on policing his own thoughts, Will didn't wonder how Frederick might have acquired that information, leaving him lucky to get away with it. "Well, fuck him, because we won."

"I'll drink to that."

Even though it was only coffee, they clinked glasses in a show of solidarity.

Will was beginning to feel a strange kind of connection to Frederick, a growing kinship between them. He tried not to think about the possibility of sharing anything more than that. Luckily, he had an excuse to depart promptly.

"I don't mean to dine and dash, but the dogs will need feeding. I'll catch a cab to the courthouse and pick up my car."

"Alright, then." Frederick rose to his feet and walked Will to the door, where they both stood awkwardly for a few seconds, unsure of how to leave things between them.

"Thanks for, uh, letting me stay the night." Will almost smiled. The silence swelled until he continued. "It feels — well, not _nice_ , that's the wrong word, but... _reassuring_ , to know that someone else can, um... empathise with me, for once. That someone else has wrangled with similar beasts that I have."

"It does," agreed Frederick. "I'm glad that we are putting the past behind us."

Will nodded at that, and bowed out the door. "Goodbye, Frederick."

"Goodbye, Will."


	3. Cats, Plural?

One evening, a month or so after their peculiar night spent drinking, Will was surprised —  _shocked_  — by a totally drenched Frederick Chilton, suit and all, stood on his front porch. Beads of water dribbled down from the locks of his hair, and his top half was soaked through completely, jacket and shirt and all.

"I was in the area."

"You were?" Will raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Well, I was  _nearby_ , in Washington DC for a conference. The storm hit just after I had left and I thought should take refuge. I remembered the way here. I apologise for just  _appearing_  unannounced."

"Oh. It's fine, come in." What else could he say? "I'll get you a towel."

Frederick shuffled inside, just enough for the door to close behind him, and took a moment to assess his surroundings.

The house was significantly messier than he remembered it to have previously been. Not dirty, as such, but empty mugs and old newspapers littered the room. Clothes were strewn over the backs of chairs and there were the odd clumps of dog hair just lying around as well. And Will looked like he hadn't had a good night's sleep in a while. Trained as he was in being observant, Frederick made a mental note.

"Here are some clothes, too. The bathroom is up there, on the right." He pointed up the stairs.

"I remember," Frederick said with an involuntary grimace that Will didn't quite catch as he turned away. "Thank you."

Some minutes later Will heard the loud creak of the stairs being descended, albeit rather cautiously. He cast his gaze up from petting Winston where he was sat beside him, to find a peculiar sight. He and Frederick were roughly the same size in terms of clothes so it wasn't that the fit looked ridiculous or anything. It was just weird seeing Chilton in such casual clothing, perhaps stranger still that he seemed to be perfectly comfortable in the same.

"Thank you," he murmured as he passed the wet towel back to Will, who noticed that his teeth still chattered slightly as he spoke.

Graham threw the towel into the laundry basket at the side of the room and then turned back.

"Would you like... a hot drink?"

"Some tea would be nice. No milk."

"Sure."

When Will returned some minutes later, bearing their drinks, he was greeted with a very unexpected sight. The rest of the dogs had wandering into the living room from the back of the house. One or two had curled up by Frederick's feet, and a couple of the others on the couch beside him. Winston even had his head resting half on Frederick's lap while the remaining few sniffed around him curiously.

"Uh... hi." Frederick shrugged his shoulders and Will could have sworn that was a hint of a smile he saw on his face. "They seem to have taken a liking to me."

"They liked you when you were here last, too." He placed one of the two mugs he had been carrying down on the coffee table for Frederick, and sat down on his armchair, opposite him.

"I had thought they were just intrigued by the stench of blood."

"Maybe." 

A silence swept over them as they each recalled the events preceding and following Frederick's last trip to Wolf Trap, sipping on their drinks as an relief from the urge to fill it. Graham felt himself gradually sinking under the weight of the crushing guilt that he now carried, one particular facet rearing its ugly head.

"I might as well just say it, now that you're here again." He kept his head down, as if he were speaking into the mug in his lap. "I have... been meaning to apologise to you. When you were last here... you arrived seeking help from a fellow victim and I turned you in, to – If it counts for anything, I did think that you would have been safer in custody, away from him."

Will finally stopped to breathe, that first lungful of air stinging as it made its way down his throat. Meanwhile Chilton's jaw clenched, traumatic and unwelcome memories flooding into his mind.

"No, I... I made my bed and laid in it too." Those words weren't easy to get out. "I suppose I had it coming. And I know others might have been keen to blame the injustices suffered at Hannibal's hands on you, but I am not. I'm capable of taking responsibility for my own misgivings. Don't carry that, don't hold yourself down with the responsibility of others."

Frederick wondered just how much guilt Graham was carrying on his back, just how great his invisible burden was. For some reason, it made a vein of irritation pulse through him, the sheer unfairness of the whole matter grating on his nerves. As for Will, it was then that he understood that Frederick's pride was not lost as it had seemed before, but it had shifted. Where pride had once fuelled his vehement defense, it now drove the acceptance of his own mistakes. He respected that more than he could find the words to express. 

"Thank you."

A weight seemed to ease off of Will's being. He took a long sip of tea and as the warmth trailed down his throat and into his chest it soothed his nerves even further.

"Look at us, making nice. He'd probably hate that," Frederick noted, both hands wrapping around his mug as if to cradle it.

"Good," Will concluded. His stomach rumbled and it reminded him that he hadn't eaten all day. "Have you had dinner?"

"No, I've been on the road –"

"I was just going to cook something –"

"Don't worry about me," Frederick shook his head dismissively, "my dietary requirements are quite the pain –"

"It's not a problem. I'm a vegetarian too, now — the only exception being the fish that I catch."

"Ah."

Chilton didn't require an explanation why that was; it was rather obvious. The knowledge of what they had been served at Hannibal Lecter's dining table was enough to put one off of meat definitively.

"In fact, I have some leftover lasagna, I'll just put in the oven to heat up."

As Will made for the kitchen, Frederick let him go without another word. He didn't have the courage to ask whether said lasagna contained cheese, as most did. He was good at avoiding animal protein as best he could, keeping a vegan diet, but... Will had already been kind enough to open up his home to him and he would have felt impolite refusing. Not to mention he was starving, too, hadn't eaten a thing for hours.

Lasagna it was.

Soon they were sat at Will's little dining table, which didn't seem to come to much use otherwise, considering the piles of books and fishing paraphernalia that Will had cleared off of it.

They ate mostly in silence, after Frederick politely complimented the food. Will poked at the lasagna on his plate, barely able to finish the tiny portion he had given himself. Frederick noted that, too.

As soon as he was done and Will seemed to be too, Frederick stood up with his plate in hand and took Will's as well, before he could stop him. 

"Oh no," he protested, "it's fine, I –"

"It's the least I can do," Frederick insisted. Even after everything that had happened to him and all the things that had left him, his manners had not. "I honestly don't mind. I enjoy washing up, usually."

Surely Chilton was the kind to use a dishwasher even though he lived alone? Apparently not.

 _"Come on,"_  Will said with a roll of his eyes, rising to his feet too and half reaching out, " _everyone_  hates doing the dishes."

"Not I." Frederick turned on his heels and marched straight into the kitchen, with Will following uselessly behind him. "There's something relaxing about the mindless action. And one of my cats always curls up on the windowsill when I am at the kitchen sink, giving me company." 

Graham was surprised as much by the beautifully soft fondness that Chilton wore on his face as he was by those words.

" _One_  of your cats?" he echoed, and Chilton nodded wordlessly, not even looking up from the sink. "You have cats,  _plural?"_

"Plural, as in  _two."_  Frederick finally turned to the other as he spoke, a little unnerved when Will took the washed plate from his hand and their fingers brushed in the process. "I'm not quite competing with you."

As if on cue, a couple of the dogs wandered into the kitchen, searching out their new friend.

"I didn't see them when I stayed over," Will continued, fighting the blush warming his cheeks as he grabbed a tea towel and started drying the plate.

"They sleep an awful lot."

"I should have known you were a cat person."

"What did you think?" Frederick raised an eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips as he passed over the next plate. "That I was a  _dog_  person?"

"No," Will chuckled, shaking his head. "Not that I ever thought about it directly, but I didn't expect you to be the kind to have pets at all."

"You would have been right." Frederick admitted. "As usual," he added half-mockingly. "They are fairly new additions to my life."

"Kittens?" Will asked, eyes widening. The mental image of Frederick Chilton trying to look after two adorable tiny kittens was quite something.

"No, I adopted them from the pound."

Will kept his eyes on the plate he was drying but still smiled; he approved of that, of course.

"I'd like to meet them someday," he said quietly, so quietly that for a second Frederick thought he had misheard.

"Um. Uh. That can be arranged, I suppose." Now it was Frederick's turn to blush, a rosy colour rising high on his cheeks.

As he waited for the last item to be washed, the oven dish, Will turned to face Frederick and just stared at him for a few seconds. He was suddenly struck with the absurdity of this whole situation. There stood Dr. Frederick Chilton, in an old t-shirt and sweatpants, washing Will's dishes, talking affectionately about his cats. The usual facade he wore was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it didn't even exist in the same way anymore. Regardless, Will understood that he had been afforded a real insight to the person inside and it left him unsure of how he felt towards him. Not how he had felt before, that much he knew for certain.

Will gently threw the tea towel over to Frederick for him to dry his hands too, and he peered out of the window as he did so.

"The storm looks to be easing up." 

"Barely," Will concluded as he briefly opened the window and stuck his arm outside for a few seconds, which left it pretty wet. When he pulled it back inside, and he dried it against his trousers. "You're welcome to stay, uh..."

Frederick echoed Will's response when he had offered the same to him all those weeks ago, "You don't have to do that –" 

"No, it's fine. The bedroom upstairs is free, I sleep down here with the dogs."

"Thank you," Frederick said in a small voice, managing an equally small smile.

Had that been a hint from Will that they should turn in for the night? It was getting late, but they had only just eaten. Perhaps it had something to do with that strange tension in the air but Frederick felt a little on edge, not quite ready for sleep just yet.

Actually, neither was Will.

"A nightcap?" he offered, recalling how much alcohol had eased the progress of their last friendly encounter, ever the social lubricant.

The smile gracing Chilton's lips widened. "I thought you'd never ask."

* * * * *

They sat out on the porch, drinks in hand and the rest of the bottle on the little table between them, dogs curled up at their feet. The rain had eased up, barely visible anyway in the pitch blackness that surrounded them. A light breeze whistled through the trees, a small relief from the otherwise humid summer air.

"So. It is really, uh...  _quaint_  out here. What do you do to kill the time?"

Another surprise; Will was a little taken aback at how genuinely Frederick was taking an interest in his day-to-day life, but then again, it was hardly the most shocking thing to come from him in their recent encounters. (He still couldn't quite believe him about the cats.)

"I fish a lot, although this isn't exactly the season for it. And I have a few old boat motors that I'm working on in the garage. Old books." He shrugged. "That's about it. It's the simple life out here."

"Sounds nice." There it was again, that quiet sincerity in Chilton's voice that Will was only becoming increasingly familiar with. 

"It is." Will decided to continue the conversation, offering a question in return. "How's work?"

"You don't want to hear about that."

Will might well have taken some offence at the other man deciding for him what he would want to discuss, but he was probably right. That and it was obvious that Frederick didn't want to talk about it himself. He couldn't exactly blame him for that.

"Busy?" was all Graham asked.

"Hmm," was all he received in reply, and when he turned his head to look at the other man, Frederick's unfocused gaze remained fixed on the tree line in the distance. There was something guarded about the expression in his hazel eyes, something that Will couldn't quite put his finger on.

It may have been Hannibal Lecter who was the catalyst for the formation of this unlikely bond between the two men, but they were both plenty glad to avoid that particular topic. They were  _moving on,_  right? Although it really wasn't clear what else they might have had in common to talk about. That was a slight issue. Still, the silence between them was inoffensive, softened — perhaps rather aptly — by a backdrop of crickets chirping away in the darkness around them.

For a moment or two in the fragile serenity, Frederick considered telling Will about his growing desire and gradually forming plans to have his own soulmark covered. He thought better of it, though, because why would he care? Perhaps, more importantly, why would Graham want to be reminded of that which he himself had already gone to some lengths to cover, to let go of and forget? So, considering that, Chilton kept his mouth shut.

The seconds passed into minutes, until it was Will who broke the silence — unexpectedly, speaking through the tail end of a yawn.

"I'm off to sleep. Getting too old to stay up so late."

"Okay, then." Frederick nodded once, hands reaching for the armrests of his chair to push himself up. "I'll get to sleep too."

After a brief and unavoidably slightly awkward good night, they were both off to opposite corners of the house, seeking peaceful slumber.

Will woke early, as he always did on the nights he was visited by nightmares — night terrors, even. He soon gave up hope of sound sleep, paced around restlessly. From the bedroom he was sleeping in, Frederick — a light sleeper — heard Will moving around downstairs for a while, and woke up fully when he came up to use the bathroom. There was no good reason to be awake and up at 4am, so Chilton quickly understood why he was. He had those nightmares, too. He didn't say anything, of course, when they both met downstairs at a more appropriate hour in the morning.

Breakfast was short and sweet, literally. Coffee and toast with jam were all that Graham had to offer and soon enough, with the weather permitting, Frederick was ready to depart.

"Oh, uh, have you been forced into that debriefing session at the BAU by Kade Purnell too?" he asked, one hand hanging off the door handle as he turned back.

"Yes, I have — she wants to control 'the flow of information' to the public, doesn't she? i.e how much we keep our mouths shut about. Polish up our respective stories."

"It looks that way. I suppose I'll see you there then," Frederick said with a farewell nod.

"If you're not busy, maybe we could go for a drink afterwards?" Will offered, running a hand through his hair. "We'll probably need it, after..."

"Oh. Uh, yes." It was most definitely going to take Frederick some time to get used to the fact that Will Graham actually  _wanted_ to spend time with him,  _voluntarily_. "It's a good idea; let's do that. See you next week then, Will."

"Bye."

His mind heavy with contemplation, Will followed the car with his gaze as it disappeared down the winding country road — the man it carried equally deep in thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates might be a little slower from here on, I'm having a bit of A Shitty Time (and it makes me want to write disproportionate amounts of painful angst, so I'll need to try not to project and torture the boys needlessly).
> 
> Still, your comments mean the world to me, so please keep them coming!


	4. More Beautiful For Having Been Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your supportive comments, I'm doing much better! I spent most of the week baking away my problems and have been able to get down to writing again this weekend...

After that night in Wolf Trap, something had undoubtedly changed between the two of them. It felt like a step beyond being politely amicable to the suggestion of a potential friendship. The next week, they did in fact go for drinks in the city after that debriefing they had been forced to attend at the BAU.

Right from the start, Will thought that Frederick seemed on edge, and so did Will, but they both attributed that to the stress of where they had just come from.

Their drinks eased their minds somewhat, and it was late in the night when Frederick turned the conversation to soulmarks. Will didn't resist it, because he had questions of his own, too. He was aware that alcohol tended to loosen Chilton's tongue – it was one of the main reasons they had even become friendly in the first place, it had helped get conversation rolling between them that night after Hannibal's sentencing.

"How did you feel about yours?" Frederick asked, his tone measured. "Before him?"

"As I said before, I just didn't care about soulmarks. I never really have."

"I wish that I could say the same," Chilton lamented. "I have actually... already known my soulmate."

Will's stomach dropped, in spite of himself. Frederick's use of the past tense wasn't lost on him. 

"Oh," he said in an attempt at a casual tone, "I thought that you had thought it was Hannibal..."

"I did. Wishful thinking, at the time. It was a denial of the signficance of someone that I had already lost."

"You have another soulmark?" Will asked, a brow quirking up. 

"Yes." A beat, a deep inhalation. "Do you?"

Will shook his head and led the conversation back to Frederick swiftly. "So, uh, you thought that your marks might have been the other way around?"

Frederick nodded just the once and tried to swallow down the lump that was forming in his throat. He hadn't discussed this with anyone in a very long time.

"Even though I had truly loved Lee, a part of me kept thinking, wishing,  _what if?"_ That name felt foreign on Frederick's tongue, once so familiar but now only uttered every few years or so. "What if it's _HL_ instead? Lee even said that to me when — when he left me, that it could be _HL_. I so wanted that to be true."

An odd sense of relief and mild disappointment washed over Graham, but he pushed it aside.

"Now that you know that it definitely isn't _HL,"_ Will talked it through out loud, "it means that you were right before."

"Correct." Frederick kept his eyes down on his drink.

"Do you think you might see him, Lee, again? That you might have a second chance?"

"I wouldn't want to." He swirled the contents of his glass around. "He's happily married."

"Oh..."

"Both of them are bareborns. It was easy for him to cheat on me and then just move on; _I'm_ the one stuck with _his_ goddamn initials on my body. I had always thought we were perfect together, you know. So alike, in so many ways. We worked in the same field, we shared interests, we just _fit_."

"That's horrible." Soulmates not ending up together was not an entirely uncommon occurrence, especially where bareborns were involved, but the separations were always trying.

"It was." Frederick tried desperately to keep his voice even, sounding unaffected, but he didn't quite manage that. "After him I stopped thinking about relationships, I focused solely on my career, because that felt under my control — until Hannibal Lecter came along and I –" He shook his head as if to rid it of that train of thought. "Fuck, _sorry._ You don't want to hear about this."

Hearing a curse word from the usually calm and composed Frederick Chilton was a bit of a shock.

"What about someone else?" Will asked, watching him more closely than either of them realised.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, what if you fell in love with someone else? It's not unheard of."

"No, you're right. It's not." Quieter then, as if it really was a secret. "In all honesty, I don't want to. I don't want to dream, either. I'm done holding out hope, putting myself out there; nothing good ever comes of it."

"I can understand that." Will shaped his lips into a faint, reassuring smile. "I'm a born cynic, and I've managed alright. I've never missed or longed for that connection. It's not something you absolutely need to live a good life." Not that his life had really been what one would call _good_.

"Right," Frederick concurred. "Who needs the fuss?"

"I'll tell you what I do need; another drink." Will picked up his empty glass and then tapped it once against the table. "The same again?"

"Ah, a man after my own heart."

Frederick watched behind Will absentmindedly as he strolled over to the bar, his gaze partly unfocused. 

"Will?" he called over, slurring a little already, "Could you make that a double, please?"

"Great idea."

* * * * *

As they emerged from the darkness of the bar, suddenly flooded by light from the street lamps outside, they were ready to go their own separate ways. This time, Will had been smart and well-prepared enough to have booked himself a room at a nearby motel for the night, mostly in case the debriefing spilled over into the next day, but also just in case they stayed up late drinking. Which they had.

It was after a only single step that Frederick halted and spun back around to face the other man. It was in that moment, desiring his company, that he silently decided — or rather, admitted to himself — that he wanted some kind of friendship with Graham.

"One more drink at my place? It's not too far from where you're staying."

Will hesitated only for a brief moment before replying, "Why not? I still need to meet the cats, after all."

Frederick smiled that content, lopsided smile that Will only realised then invariably brought a similar one to his own face.

"I see how it is. Partaking in my company only to get to my cats. Goodness gracious, Will. That's transparent."

Will donned a playful grin in response, cocking his head to one side **.** "What did you expect?" They might not have said it directly, but the fact that they were so comfortably able to joke like this was a testament to how secure they were beginning to feel about growing to enjoy each other's company. "And I'm sure they'll love me–"

"Even more than your dogs love me?" Frederick finished the other's sentence. "Oh, we'll see about that."

* * * * *

They were stood in the unlit hallway with only the street lights streaking in through the windows. Frederick whistled and the soft pitter patter of little paws could be heard from further inside the house. The sound gradually grew louder until its source came into sight; one of Frederick's cats. A dark brown shorthair, the cat ambled over to them as Frederick switched the lights on.

The first thing Will noticed about the cat was that she was missing an eye, the right one. It sent an immediate stab of sympathy through his being, for both the cat and her owner. Will had noticed the way Frederick often rubbed his left eye when it got irritated, and also when his contact lens slipped ever so slightly and gave away the milky, now useless eye underneath. So it was hardly a reach to suspect that Chilton felt a sense of affinity for that cat springing from his own experiences.

Frederick watched Will as he watched her, eyes brimming with sympathy, concern.

"She struggles a little bit," he explained, "but I help her out where I can."

"What's her name?" Will asked, kneeling down on one leg to pet her, stroking under her chin with a few fingers.

"Stevie."

"...As in _Wonder?_ "

"Mmhmm."

"She's lovely..." Stevie nuzzled up against Will's palm, purring contentedly.

"Shall we go inside?"

"Oh, yes. Sure."

The cat joined them on their walk, winding in between Will and Frederick's legs as she did so. She jumped up to sit in the middle of the couch, besides Will as he took a seat too.

"Where's the other cat?"

Frederick checked his watch, and was surprised at how fast the past few hours had flown. "It's late so he must be asleep."

"Ah, I see."

"So. What can I get you?"

"You know what I like."

He did indeed. "Whiskey it is."

Frederick sauntered off to the other side of the room, went into a cabinet and returned holding a box in both hands, which Will assumed contained a bottle of whiskey. It was clearly finely crafted, from dark mahogany, polished. There was gold lettering engraved on it that he couldn't quite make out from where he was sat. Just the box itself looked as though it was worth more than any bottle that he had ever bought or drank himself.

"Christ, that looks expensive."

"It is," Frederick confirmed, but there wasn't even the slightest bit of pride or boasting in his voice. "I have had this bottle of bourbon sitting around for years, as a showpiece. All the while I waited and waited for an excuse to finally drink it, a special occasion."

"And _this_ is one?" Will questioned, brows raised in disbelief and mild confusion.

"No," Frederick opened the cap with a pop, "it is _not_. Which is precisely why I am breaking the bottle out. Life is too damn short not to enjoy the finer things."

He searched out two glasses from another cabinet and returned to the couch, seating himself carefully on the other side of the cat before pouring the whiskey out.

"Well, I feel honoured," Will placed a hand over his chest as he picked up his glass with the other.

They both took their first sips simultaneously, and _damn_. Graham had always been under the illusion that the idea of ludicrously expensive liquor being far superior was all upper class nonsense, but the flavours dancing on his palate proved him wrong. The whiskey was musty and full-bodied, a touch woody. It left a slightly sweet finish on his tongue as it trailed warmth down his throat. It was _really_ good. _Hundred of dollars_ good? That much was still debatable.

One thing it did was induce a sense of calm that Will felt gradually wash over himself, welcome. He felt relaxed, and he had this funny feeling that it wasn't just down to the alcohol, but also the company. It was a rare sentiment for him to experience, the softening of his usual guards and, for want of a better description, safety precautions.

"So, when did you move in here?"

"As soon as I left the hospital. I didn't go back to my old place."

"Ever?"

"Ever, if you must know."

That house had been tainted with bad memories, but there was more to his decision to move, especially into a place like this. It represented a departure from the track he had been on for so many years, real growth, evolution into someone he might actually grow to like.

There was no pretentious contemporary art, no needlessly costly designer furniture. But of course, Will noticed the _one_ really expensive looking thing in the whole place — apart from the whiskey.

An elegant jade vase stood on the end table beside him, but it was broken. Broken and then put back together, strangely, without any attempts to hide that fact.

"What's this?" he asked, fingers tracing along the cracks gilded with gold.

"It's called kintsukuroi," Chilton explained, his tone gaining the slightest hint of loftiness. "I bought it on a recent trip to Japan."

"Sounds fancy." Will punctuated his remark with a large gulp of his drink, his gaze still regarding the vase.

"It's an ancient tradition. The pottery is supposed to be even more beautiful for having been broken and repaired, for its mended flaws turned golden." He shrugged, lips pushing out into a slight pout. "I thought it poetic."

"It is," Graham concurred, with a tightening in his chest. He wasn't about to well up because of a fucking _vase,_ even if he could have blamed it on being rather drunk. _No_. "Poetic _and_... beautiful."

He looked back at Chilton and couldn't quite read the expression on his face, for all that he tried. It wasn't often that Will actually _tried_ to understand another's emotions more deeply, it wasn't often he actively searched between the lines, in the gaps between words. It wasn't often he came up short, either. They finished their drinks without further conversation and in the quiet of the night, the atmosphere between them only grew increasingly loaded. Like a wave slowly swelling, until the severity of their sad reality crashed down and even just being there was suddenly too intense for Graham, leaving him with a compulsion to take his leave.

"I should get going."

He stood up and made his way back to the front door, with the other a few steps behind him.

"Thanks for the drink."

As Will turned away, Frederick reached out tentatively to brush his fingers against his shoulder.

"Will. Just, uh, if you are ever in the city, um, and in the mood for some fine bourbon, you know where to find me."

It was obvious from the caution in his voice, from the hesitation on his face, that Frederick felt a little nervous about being the one to suggest that they meet up again. But at the crux of the matter he was a lonely man, far beyond feeling embarrassed after all of the bullshit that he had been through.

"Mmm, I don't think so." Graham replied evenly, with absolutely nothing in his tone to give him away.

Frederick's lips parted a touch but no words came out. The disappointment that coloured his features made Will feel guilty; he couldn't maintain his bluff.

"I mean that I believe it's _your turn_ to come out to Wolf Trap," he explained, and watched Chilton breathe out a deep sigh of relief, as subtle as he tried to be about it.

"I think I'll take you up on that," Frederick beamed, something akin to excitement sparking in his eyes.

"Good night, Frederick."

"Good night, Will." Then, after a moment, "See you soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Frederick's vase](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/fd/31/5f/fd315fee1ce664f215b7fc517d259bde--kintsugi-for-sale.jpg)


	5. I'm Glad That You're Here

Fundamentally, yes, Will Graham and Frederick Chilton were undeniably rather different people, from very different walks of life. And yet, they were bonded by what they had been through at Lecter's hands, bonded by the attachment they shared with _him_. The trauma they had experienced. At first they saw each other slightly more often, perhaps once every few weeks or so for a drink, always out at a bar, and so would exchange the occasional text message of planning.

Which might well have seemed bizarre, but Will found that under his usual mask, Frederick Chilton apparently wasn’t so difficult to get along with. Nowhere near as insufferable as he had previously thought him to be. He didn't think he had necessarily been totally wrong in his original judgment, rather that Frederick had undoubtedly changed. And he was actually funny, in that wry way that Will tended to be himself. Whether it was deadpanning or biting sarcasm, their senses of humour were rather compatible.

As for Frederick — within a short while, it had become clear to him that Will was... _struggling_. He understood that recovery from what they went through would take a while, as it was for him too, but there was more to it. And he was astute; it would have been rather embarrassing for an accredited psychiatrist not to pick up on the classical symptoms of clinical depression. He felt a compulsion to help Will, not only through that lingering sense of guilt and debt, but because he was growing to actually like him personally. The slightly awkward silences between them had become more comfortable and natural silences, stilted small talk had become casual conversations, as if they were old friends. Even without adding alcohol to the mix.  _Fancy that._

At first, Frederick had thought about asking Will to talk to someone, to see a therapist. But he was almost instantly hit with the realisation that  Will could probably never do that again. It made him value the amicability between them all the more, because there he was, opening himself up to another psychiatrist. And one that had a bad track record, at that. If he thought about it too much he felt deeply unworthy of Will's companionship.

So, Chilton started trying to help in his own little ways. He'd taken to showing up at the weekends, whenever he wasn't bogged down with work. He'd cook them both a nice meal, tidy up a little as inconspicuously as he could and play around with the dogs, at first using them as an excuse for visiting so often. It wasn't much, might not have seemed too grand, but it was something. Frederick understood that depression wasn't always crying gracelessly, drowned in sadness, even if there were some days where it was just that. It was a cycle of isolation, guilt and self-loathing. A permanent dull ache, a hitched breath, days blurring into nights spent staring at the ceiling hoping for _something_ to change things, to break you out of it.

Maybe it was simplistic, maybe it was naïve, but Frederick hoped to perhaps be that something for Will.

He could usually tell if Will was having a bad day from how long it took him to answer the door. There were times when he stood there for over ten minutes, patient, understanding. Will always opened the door eventually, even on the worst days. That showed that he really was trying his best to let himself be helped, even if it was inadvertent, even if they never put words to his reality. Frederick would drag him out of the house, even if it was only to fish in the stream behind it. He understood well that in the state he was in, Will would have lost the motivation to do even the things he enjoyed. For the first few times they went, he stood on the bank and was terrible at keeping quiet, and got bored and angry at not getting any fish. But after a while he just sat there near Will while he fished, together in silence. Frederick relished the company, quiet though it was, and Will felt as calm as when he used to be out there alone, but also, somehow, more content. It was strange to realise that before, when he had always claimed to be perfectly content, he might in fact have been a little lonely without knowing it.

"Frederick?"

"Hmm?" Chilton glanced up from his book, eyes peering over the rim of his reading glasses.

"Why _do_ you come out here?" Will gestured to the wilderness around them. "I don't think I quite understand."

"I've never been the most... nature-inclined type of person, but I see the appeal now. Of being at one with the natural world."

Will scoffed; he knew full well when Frederick was bullshitting. "You douse yourself in insect repellent when we come outside and refuse to touch _anything_. I had to search out that ridiculous deckchair just for you."

"Oh. Right." Frederick averted his eyes then, in attempt at playing his words down, fingers tapping on the ostentatious cup holder of said deckchair. "You said it yourself, it's simple out here. There's something calming about the water. And. Uh. It's freeing to not feel forced to maintain the pretence."

"What pretence?" asked Will, turning back to watch the stream, as if he didn't already know.

Frederick narrowed his eyes knowingly, understanding that Will was trying to extract the truth from him. He slotted his leather bookmark in place before shutting the book, and put it down on the small folding table beside him. 

"The impassive mask that the work I do necessitates. Cold and hardened. I don't particularly like it but I grew so used to it that... It feels good to remind myself that that isn't really me."

Will nodded where he stood, eyes falling shut for a moment or two in a slow blink.

"That and, uh..." Sure that he was blushing, Frederick was quietly grateful that Will's gaze was locked on the water and not on him. "You're better company than you give yourself credit for. Bitter about almost everything and you take no shit." As Will turned to face him, shock painting his features, Frederick shrugged casually, as if he hadn't just paid the other man the greatest compliment he had received in a long while. "I can get along with that."

With that Frederick rubbed at his left eye, bloodshot with irritation, for what Will was certain was the tenth time in the past few minutes. He _had_ to say something.

"You don't have to keep it in, you know. Your contact lens. If you're not comfortable."

"It's just the wind." He rubbed it again, and even from ten feet away Will could see that the whites of his eyes were only growing redder.

"Then take it out."

"I think that I will spare you having to see... _below._ " It was bad enough seeing it himself, twice a day in the mirror. The whole picture was nothing short of nauseating.

"Frederick," Will pressed, "I don't care. I want you to feel..."  _'At home'_ were the first words that came to his mind, but that wasn't quite what he meant, _surely_. "I want you to feel relaxed, here. At ease." _Better._

A few moments of resistance passed, then Frederick relented. From the corner of his eye Will saw him fumble in his jacket pocket before producing what looked like a small plastic case. Chilton slid the lens out between his thumb and index finger before carefully putting it away.

It was easy not to look over directly, easy not to care. In Graham's mind, physical disfigurement paled in comparison to the mental trauma that he — and probably Frederick too — was accustomed to wrestling with. It shouldn't have been something to be embarrassed about, and for his part he refused to allow Chilton to feel that.

As the air grew chillier and the wind really began to bite, they withdrew back into the house. Will had managed quite a catch already.

"Do you really have to... _gut_ them right now?"

Frederick grimaced from where he was sat at the dining table, distracted from his book by the foul stench soaked thick into the air. Even the dogs had departed to the opposite corner of the house. 

"The sooner they are gutted," Will explained, punctuating his words with a particularly noisy, crunchy slice, "the cleaner and better the flavour."

"It's of no benefit to me," muttered Frederick under his breath. He wasn't going to be eating any of the fish and yet was forced to endure the disgusting smell of their innards regardless.

He made the mistake of peering over at the kitchen counter to see if Will was nearly done, and his stomach churned at the bloody, messy, sight.

"Christ," he held back a retch, "if you wanted to drive me out of here as quickly as possible, you could have just said that."

He was — for the most part — joking, but there was a thin layer of insecurity cloaked by Frederick's humorous tone.

One that Will of course picked up on. 

"Of course I'm not trying to drive you out of here," he said, with markedly less lightheartedness. He kept his eyes down on the fish, gaze so strong it might have burned through the flesh as he battled with holding back his emotions. "I'm glad that you're here, Frederick." He had truly grown to enjoy the other man's company, even without any placing down any caveats. "Honestly."

Extremely thankful for its presence in his hands, Frederick had to hide his blush behind his open book.

* * * * *

"Next Friday night at eight?"

"Sure."

And that was how they departed.

But the call came through at seven thirty.

"I'm afraid I have to cancel," Frederick lamented across the line. "I'm not feeling very well. I must have come down with something."

"Oh. God, I'm sorry to hear that. I hope you feel better. Next week then, same time?"

"Definitely."

Will hung up the phone, shoved it back in his pocket, and stared out at the street from where he was he was taking shelter from the rain. He only realised then just how much he looked forward to their little meet ups, but it was alright. More than anything he hoped that Frederick would be okay soon, and it wasn't anything severe.

So he wandered down the street aimlessly, inwardly deciding he would find somewhere to eat. Just as on many other days, Graham had forgotten to eat dinner. Well, he'd been planning on sating himself with alcohol instead, but drinking alone wasn't something he could quite justify.

Rounding a corner, he walked in the direction of one of those ridiculously fancy restaurants, classy to the point of being pretentious. And there he was.

For all of Chilton's waxing poetic about not dreaming about finding someone, there he was. Clearly on a date. He and his company slipped inside — not quickly enough for Will to miss Frederick's hand on the other's back as he stepped in behind him. The first real thought in Will's mind was a question. He wondered why Frederick hadn't told him, why he had felt the need to lie instead. Did he think Will would feel offended at his choice to seek out that kind of company, that he would think less of him for it? Or did he think that Graham's misery just loved company?

Either way was fucking dreadful. 

Either way he had just been lied to by someone who he was growing to see as a friend. It hurt. The discomfort sat like a stone at the pit of his stomach, one that he just couldn't seem to shift, no matter how he tried to distract himself with anything else.

The next week seemed to drag on for months.

Friday came around and Will arrived at the bar earlier than Frederick. He found a booth right in the corner of the place — which was still fairly empty anyway, that early on in the night — and planned his words.

"Will! There you are."

"How are you feeling now?" he asked, voice dark with unspoken angst.

"Um, better, thank you." His gaze blatantly shifty, Frederick avoided eye contact as he took a seat across from the other man. "I apologise again that I had to can–"

"I saw you," Will cut him off. "I was already in the city, so I went for a walk and there you were, all dressed up, _not ill,_ going for a fancy dinner."

"Ah. Look, I can explain –"

"You know, you could have just told me that you had a date." Will crossed his arms over his chest, posture stiff as he sat back in his seat.

"A _date?"_

"That – _guy_  that you were with, that you were all over!"

Chilton scoffed in exasperation before rising to the argument, raising his voice to level Will's. " _'That guy'_ was my doctor!"

"What?"

"Not that it should be any of your business, but he... _worked on me_ after I was shot. I had a check-up appointment last Friday, at which he told me he was leaving, moving across the country. I wanted to thank him, so I took him for dinner. It is because of that man that I have a face that is even partly palatable, I didn't have a fucking date!"

' _Look at me!'_ he stopped short of saying, _'how could I have had a date?'_

"Oh. I'm sorry." Will bowed his head in shame and his fingers fiddled with the edge of a coaster on the table before him.

"I should have just told you the truth," Frederick sighed tiredly, the pointlessly excessive frustration having taken it out of him.

"I wouldn't have minded," Graham returned in a small voice. " _Fuck,_ I'm sorry." He lightly punched his own thigh under the table with a balled fist. "I didn't mean to snap at you. After everything, it's just that... honesty is something that is incredibly important to me."

Those words were enough to wash away any ill feeling that Frederick might have been experiencing, and his disposition softened. "I can understand that, of course. I will endeavor to be as honest with you as I can."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, again. I just got in my head about it and..."

"It's an easy mistake."

"You don't have to do that."

"Do what?"

"Try and make me feel better about it."

"I'm not." Frederick tilted his head to one side, allowed the slightest of smiles to grace his lips. "I'm only being _honest_. Will, to your credit, you have _always_ directed me with honesty and you _do_ deserve the same in return."

Just like that, Will could breathe easy again. Chilton had this very strange way of making him feel at ease, of calming his neuroses, which was most certainly a fairly recent development.

"Can I buy you a drink?" he asked, scrambling awkwardly to his feet in search of a few moments of much needed space.

Frederick opened his mouth to reply, but Will still got there before him –

"A _double_ , yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* These awkward boys...


	6. It's Not Only Your Pride That He Hurt

Three weeks passed and with every day that he didn't hear from Frederick, Will grew more and more worried. At first he had thought it was because of their little quarrel, even though they had resolved it quite calmly. But it soon became apparent that something else was seriously wrong. He called, and nothing. On Frederick's part, there wasn't a day went by in which he didn't think of Will, or feel a twinge of longing. But he couldn't call back.

Eventually, he decided to just show up at his place, as dramatic and perhaps excessive as that might have seemed.  But it was because, for some unholy reason, he couldn't just let Frederick go, couldn't let go of this budding friendship that they were developing. He felt a sense of duty in looking out for a fellow survivor. 

So there Graham stood, on the other's doorstep, as difficult as it was for him to be the one to bite the bullet and reach out.

"You look _awful."_

Okay, that wasn't exactly sensitive but Graham was nothing if not honest. He hadn't seen a beard on Chilton's face in a couple of years, and this one was different. Clearly unplanned and unkempt, not pristinely groomed as before. He was wearing a plain, round necked and long-sleeved shirt, and baggy sweatpants, hair not only unstyled but also all ruffled, sticking up in different directions.

"It's nice to see you too, Will." The door was barely ajar, as if Chilton were planning to close it any second. "Could you kindly explain what the hell you're doing here?"

"Don't snap at me." He stood his ground, just as Frederick had on those days where _he_ had been... uncooperative. "I didn't know what was wrong with you. Didn't expect you would be rude enough to ignore my calls completely."  _I was so worried._

"There's no need to make a mountain of a molehill. I simply... I haven't felt much in the mood for socialising, of late."

His nights had been spent with microwave dinners on his lap in front of the TV, chipping away at his exorbitant collection of wine day by day. Frederick had a complicated relationship with red wine... it made him feel sick, made his stomach turn through its ties to Lecter's dining table — and yet he craved it in some horrible, masochistic way.

Will could smell the wine on him now, an addition to the picture of tragedy that was forming around him.

"It _is_ a mountain," he maintained. "I called the hospital and they told me that you had suddenly taken a whole month of leave, with no prior warning. What happened?"

He thought about making an excuse, but there was something about Will that tended to make him honest. Perhaps it was simply the knowledge that he would see through whatever lies he forged anyway.

"I couldn't do it any longer. With him, there."

"What did he do?" There was anger sparking in Will's eyes, and the sight of it softened Frederick's composure.

"I'm fine, Will. He just..." Chilton sighed deeply, and ushered the other man inside. "Let's sit and talk."

So they did. For someone who had invited the other in to sit and talk, Frederick was awfully silent. Will waited, nothing if not patient.

"Hannibal spun this story," Chilton finally began, wringing his hands, "about how we had been _together,_  to his psychiatrist, who, of course came to me about it."

"God, that's absurd."

"Absurd would be an understatement." Frederick sucked in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds as he gathered himself. "The problem is that it was also true, all of it. We _did_ have a relationship, if you could call it that."

For a moment or two Will just stared at him as if he had grown another head. It couldn't be.

"You... _fuck._  No. For how long?"

"Months." He swallowed hard, and looked down at his feet, tapping his heel nervously. "During your admission to BSHCI, and a little before that too."

It took Graham a few moments to find any words. "Because you thought that he..."

Frederick smiled sadly as he cast his gaze upwards again, and his eyes glistened almost imperceptibly. "Yes."

Will thought about his time spent in the BSHCI, when he had been trying to convince Chilton about Hannibal's deception, and when he had finally got through. He couldn't have imagined the turmoil that Frederick had to have been going through at the very same time — but it explained a lot. His skin crawled at the mere thought of Hannibal's hands touching him, haunting him still.

When the initial shock on Will's face diminished slightly, Frederick resumed his story.

"I had so deeply wanted him to be my soulmate that it was difficult to see past that. I thought that we connected, intellectually... physically. I was regrettably so wrong about that."

Not exactly a man of many words anyway, Will was stunned into silence. He waited for Frederick to continue.

"It was pathetic. I had thought he actually cared about me when... everything was a well-planned, calculated manipulation. That I fell for." He heaved in a lungful of air, then exhaled slow and shakily.

Feeling a need to comfort him, Will almost reached a hand out to rest on Frederick's knee, before thinking better of it and giving him his space.

"Having him in my hospital was supposed to be a form of taking back control from him."

Taking back control had involved Frederick purging Hannibal from his day-to-day life as best he could. In a way he hoped it would make Hannibal feel insignificant, having the administrator of the institution neglect to take a personal interest in his case. Although he might just as well have thought Frederick was still too _affected_ by him to have the courage to face him. Thinking about it was what had driven Frederick mad. Hannibal's presence changed him, it always had. It was demeaning.

"What did he do to you?" Will asked, not much _wanting_ to hear the inevitably tragic answer to that, but needing to know and to help Frederick, if he could.

"He kept me on his leash, he strung me along like a puppet. Honestly? At times I couldn't tell if I wanted more to be him or be with him. It's highly embarrassing, is what it is."

There was one thing he was always sure of, and that was that he had wanted to be _worthy_ of him. Frederick thought about how Hannibal's tailored touch had made him feel wanted. In a carnal, animalistic sense — but that was what he had mistaken a whole _other_ kind of desire for.

"What was it you had said to me? That we had won? It doesn't feel that way. I've lost everything because of him. My career was _everything_. I am aware that part of the blame is mine, I'm not making excuses but... he really has ruined my life. I'm so ashamed."

"Frederick — it's alright to admit that it's not only your _pride_  that he hurt."

Chilton closed his eyes tightly, wishing that weren't true but forced to admit it all the same. "You're right, it was _more."_

This time Will found the courage to actually reach out and place a hand over Frederick's own, just letting him know he was there, waiting patiently for him to open up.

"I was _stupid,"_ Frederick concluded, lips curling into a snarl. "I was stupid to trust him. To think I wouldn't get hurt this time and _fuck,_ I really did." His expression softened, muscles twitching in his face as he tried not to allow emotion to wash over his features. "After everything with Lee and I and..."

Will was absolutely right; it wasn't just his pride that Hannibal had hurt. He had broken his heart and yes, it wasn't unheard of. But of course it had changed him. Of course he had become tough and cold. Of course he had isolated himself to an unhealthy degree, focusing all his efforts on his career. Of course, now, burned twice, he wouldn't dare indulge the thought of there being any prospect of him finding love with somebody else. Especially not another person lacking his own initials. It seemed everything was always one-sided, _him_ putting his heart on the line, _him_ risking rejection. Not anymore. Never again.

Breathing slowly and deeply, Frederick took a few seconds to compose himself — to no avail. Tears were pricking his eyes in what was by now a very familiar sensation, although he couldn't remember the last time he had cried in front of somebody else. For someone who had promised himself to never be vulnerable with another again, his guards were already fully lowered around Graham.

"Take your time," Will whispered, allowing Chilton to pull himself together but also assuring him that he would be there waiting, a figurative support for him to lean on.

But Frederick was already too overwhelmed to hold his emotions back. As he blinked, the tears finally spilled over his eyelids and rolled down both sides of his face at the same time — until the one on his left caught in the dip of his scar. Will felt his stomach twist into knots as he watched Frederick only sinking deeper into his pit of misery, covering his face with both hands, body wracked with silent sobs. He wished with every bit of himself that he knew how to help him, how to fulfill the sharp urge he felt to take that pain away. 

"On top of everything is the guilt," Frederick sniffled, shaking his head. "Yes, it was Hannibal who put all those thoughts into my head, convinced me to adopt his methods of psychic driving — but I'm so  _ashamed_ because I look at what he did to you and... I feel responsible, somehow."

"That doesn't make any sense," Will protested, his voice softer than a cloud. "You made mistakes, I understand. But what you did under his influence doesn't define who you really are. God, I have to believe in that, for _my own_ sanity."

Frederick spoke through gritted teeth and self-hatred radiated from his every word. "Why did I _ever_ fall under his influence though? As your psychiatrist, he was in a position of power when you were vulnerable. Power that he was more than happy to abuse. I don't have an excuse; I did this to myself."

That was it. Will shuffled closer, placed both hands on Frederick's shoulders and turned them gently so he could look him right in the eyes, before dropping his arms down again.

" _You did not._ He played dirty, with your emotions. He was _ruthless_. You didn't _ask_ for what he did to you, you didn't deserve it. I can imagine it's an especially potent form of control, the prospect of love. One that uses the guise of affection as a conduit for manipulation. Frederick, if I was..." he struggled with getting the word out, "... _abused_ by him, so were you."

Although Hannibal had ruined Will through multiple means, there was one way in which he had not been able to  _touch_  him, to _break_ him — but that he had Chilton. Will had long let go of any grievances he might have held against the other man, he had forgiven him without much difficulty. So this new revelation only served to endear the man to him further, because even he struggled to empathise with the particular brand of torment that Frederick had been subjected to.

"People say that oftentimes mental scars are worse than those physical. But I have both, all of it, mental, emotional, physical. A thousand showers couldn't wash the feel of his fingertips off of me. I have probably had as many, too."

What could Will say to that? It was simply heart-wrenching.

"I wish that I could have helped you." Feeling helpless above all, that was all that he could offer now, said with the deepest, most heartfelt sentiment.

"You did," Frederick insisted, finally meeting Will's gaze again. "Even when I had you locked up at the hospital, in my custody, you brought me to the truth. You helped me to _finally_ see his true colours, to drop his veil. _I_ should have helped _you_ sooner."

"You once told me not to hold myself yourself down with the responsibility of others; I'm returning the same advice. I don't blame you, not one bit."

Chilton remained silent, and Will just watched him slowly gather himself, wipe the tears away and straighten his back.

"I apologise for dumping my ridiculous baggage on you," he said in a small voice, still thick with emotion.

"No, I'm – don't apologise. Frederick, I'm glad you felt able to discuss it with me. That you feel... _safe_ with me. And it's not the same, I know, but I do understand how it feels to be trapped in his web. I trusted him too. In Hannibal I had found someone that I could talk to for lengths of time without being mentally wrecked by the experience, and it was such a relief. I was so wrapped up in that that I too ignored the warning signs."

"I suppose we all let him in, one way or another. Leeching him out is proving to be more difficult."

"But not impossible."

"You _really_ believe that?" Frederick looked at Will through half-lidded eyes, tears still gathered at the ends of his lashes.

"I have to. _We_... have to."

Before Will could say anything more, he was distracted; he caught sight of something moving in the doorway of the room. It was Frederick's other cat, he quickly realised. Jet black, and there was something off about the rhythm of its footsteps. When he padded into the light, Will soon understood why; he was missing a hind leg.

He leapt up onto the couch and made himself at home on Frederick's lap, a way of comforting his human friend.

"Hi, Neptune." Frederick began petting him in short, gentle strokes, body curved inward just a touch, as if cradling his warmth.

"I'm afraid I don't get the reference, this time."

"The Roman god of the sea. He carries a _trident_."

"Oh."

"It isn't only that; strangely enough for a cat, he also loves the water. I can never get him out of the bath, even I get soaked from all the splashes by the time he's done having his fun."

That cued another unexpected mental image for Graham to wrangle with, but looking at the faint smile tugging at the corners of Chilton's lips, he was glad that the cat had provided a distraction from their earlier conversation, and perhaps some form of relief for the other man.

While Will was in thought, Stevie appeared as if out of nowhere and made her way up onto the couch as well, to nestle into Frederick's side. Her one eye near glowed in the dimness of the room, highlighted the absence of the other, while in Neptune's seating position the stump of his right hind leg stuck out from the curled up ball of his body. A picture of endearing imperfection, Will realised, much like their owner between them.

"What was it that made you choose these two?"

"They had been at the pound the longest, which meant that they were the closest to being..." He cleared his throat of more of that unwelcome emotion. "Apparently no one wants a cat with a disability, missing an eye or a leg, they are not seen as cute or desirable. So more than the others, they needed someone on their side. They needed me."

Will understood what Frederick meant by that, he could relate to that sentiment perfectly. And he couldn't help but wonder, the question tugging at the back his mind... _what exactly was it that the two of them needed?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a pretty intense chapter to write so I’d be particularly grateful if any of you lovely readers could spare the time to let me know what you though of it — and also how you feel about the story's progression more generally, because I'm working hard on plotting rn!
> 
> (Honestly, seeing as this is such a rarepair every single comment I get really fuels me <33)


	7. He Changed Me Too

Following Frederick's heartfelt confession, Will very much got the hint, he understood that the other's history with Hannibal Lecter was not something he yearned to discuss at any further length. So they went on as they had been before, even though Graham felt a new level of sympathy towards the other man now. They remained — or even grew further to be — somewhat of a silent support for each other.

Sometimes, if it got really late when he was out at Will's, Frederick stayed the night. He learned quickly that sleeping with at least two dogs piled onto the bed with, most times three, was part and parcel of life out in Wolf Trap. There came one time when Chilton actually intended to stay over all along. It was because the next day was Will's birthday. Which Frederick only knew because the date had stuck out to him in Will's file, when he was admitted to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane. The reverse date to his own, December 10th to his October 12th. So, Frederick had bought him a present. It had been a challenge to shop for someone who had next to no sense or care of fashion or style, and remarkably little interest in material goods. Still, he thought he did alright.

Will was presented with three packages in the middle of the dining table when he strolled into the kitchen for breakfast, totally oblivious.

"Happy birthday, Will." Frederick smiled up from what had in essence become 'his' seat at the table.

"Oh. Uh, thank you. I didn't expect..."

He couldn't remember the last time he had received a gift on his birthday. He lacked immediate family, and while more distant relatives would often send him Christmas cards and little presents, they never sent anything for his birthday. Before Will could ask how Chilton had known it was his birthday, or even pour himself a cup of coffee, one of the packages was pushed along the table in his direction.

The box inside contained a white mug, bearing a photograph Frederick had taken himself a few weeks back, very slyly, of Will asleep on the couch, cozied up with the pack of dogs — with the caption _'I was normal three dogs ago.'_

"Very funny," Will remarked, shaking his head as he poured fresh coffee into the new mug, then muttered, "As if I was ever normal."

He sat down at the table across from Frederick before unwrapping his second gift gingerly. It turned out to be a brand new tackle box, red and shiny, and was — Frederick hoped — something that he would find joy in using. If Chilton was a somewhat exorbitant spender, Will seemed to be guilty of the opposite, never buying himself anything nice. If something still worked, he kept using it. Even if it was in a far from ideal state.

"Actually, my old box is almost in disrepair."

"It already is, I would maintain," Frederick countered. He noticed that it had been subject to quite some wear and tear, as well as succumbing to rust. "Hence the replacement."

"Thank you, Frederick."

And then, because he was Frederick Chilton and couldn't have resisted spending some real money, the last part of the gift was a small ceramic bowl or perhaps sake cup, a kintsukuroi piece. As the wrapping paper was pulled away and the bowl exposed, beautiful seams of gold glinted in the cracks, catching the morning light streaking in through the window. Frederick hoped that Will wouldn't realise quite how expensive the piece was, because that wasn't at all what the gift was about.

His wishing went to waste.

"You didn't have to –"

"You liked my vase, so." Chilton shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, playing it down.

Graham spoke in a murmur as he shook his head from side to side. "I can't accept this."

"Of course you can," Frederick insisted. "Keep it as a reminder."

He didn't need to elaborate on that, they both knew full well what he meant. They were both broken, both slowly being put back together. Whether it was gold that mended him, Will wasn't sure. He didn't feel anywhere in the league of the beauty of the bowl sat on the table before him. But he still appreciated the gesture, more than he could find the words for.

"I don't even know when your birthday is," he realised aloud.

"That can be easily rectified. My birthday is October 12th."

"So I missed it, then. I'll be sure to keep it in mind for next year." Will waved the coffee pot as he topped up his own mug. "More coffee?"

The insinuation that they would remain in contact close to a year from then threw Frederick, unexpectedly. It shouldn't have felt like a big deal, but he only realised then how Will had become the most stable presence in his life in years. Decades, even.

"Oh, uh." Chilton snapped back out of his thoughts. "Yes, please."

Graham experienced a similar dawning as they made their way through breakfast. It had surprised him, crept up on him even, the way that felt it so nice to have another presence in the house — another human presence. To, more specifically, have _Frederick_ there.

"I should get driving back into the city soon," declared Frederick as they finished washing the dishes.

"You're not escaping that easily. There's something I need to show you."

The look on Chilton’s face was priceless.

"Nothing bad, I promise. Although we will have to go down to the basement."

"Alright..."

The rickety stairs creaked as they stepped carefully down one at a time,

"This had better be worth it," Frederick grumbled, ducking his head down and just missing the ceiling by a sliver.

"I have something down here that I think you might like."

They were greeted by what looked to be old furniture and general clutter, mostly veiled in thin plastic sheets. Pushing aside cobwebs and breathing dust, Will led Frederick to a large object in the far corner of the basement, and pulled down the sheet that had been covering it before turning to face him.

"It's my grandmother's old piano."

Frederick gave it the once over. It was an upright, well-used but not badly aged. Fine walnut wood that probably could use a polish and slightly discolored, off-white keys, nonetheless delicate for that.

"I'm not ever going to use it, so you might as well."

Chilton had once mentioned how his own grand piano had been damaged in transit, and how he hated it anyway because it had been so new and lifeless, the sound it produced bearing no real personality. Still, he couldn’t accept Will’s offer, silently understanding the sentimental value that the piano must have held for him to keep it all these years.

"Will, I can't..."

"It's the only way I'm accepting that –" he pointed upstairs "– _everything_."

"This is completely disproportionate –"

"No it isn't. I have no use for it. And I trust that you will."

"I don't know how to thank you."

Graham's lips twisted into a knowing smile. "Play for me, someday."

* * * * *

He jumped awake, shaking and sweating and falling apart, fully believing himself to be in another place, at another time. Will turned and sobbed into his pillow, the cries that he had to muffle being the only relief he could find. The ache in his chest killed, it stabbed as though Lecter had plunged a knife into him all over again, tearing apart his insides.

Frederick woke because Will was making so much noise he could hear it upstairs. Draping himself in a blanket, he ventured through the house, eyes slowly focusing as he searched for the other man. He found Graham over the sink in the kitchen, and his first thought was that he was throwing up. He wasn't. He was drinking glass after glass of water until he felt veritably sick to the stomach.

"Will?" Frederick murmured, voice stark against the quiet of the night, louder than he had intended. "Are you alright?"

"You know that I'm not," he replied shortly, and Chilton suddenly felt as though he was intruding on something altogether too private, an uncommon worry for him.

"No."

There was a tragic resignation in Graham's eyes and it was soon presented in his words, too.

"It's nothing I don't deserve."

Guilt burrowed deep in his chest; it had a permanent home there. It fed on his self-esteem, it marred his every past choice, as well as every future decision.

"Will... sometimes feeling like this, it has no well-founded reason. Stop trying to search out reasons why you deserve to be experiencing this pain. You _don't."_

The way that Graham saw it, nothing was as simple as the other's words attempted to make it seem.

"You're not my psychiatrist anymore, Frederick."

"No."

Yes, Will had misdirected his bitterness and almost immediately felt a pang of regret for it, but the words were out in the air between them and he couldn't pull them back. It had become so easy to share the less trying times with the other man, but baring his innermost demons was a huge step beyond that, one that he just didn't feel ready for.

Chilton had different ideas. 

"Who am I then, Will? Just someone who cares about you. Dare I think, a friend."

Will looked down in shame, cursing inwardly. There were people who had promised to be his safety net before, to catch him when his steps faltered, and he had been failed by them.

"I didn't ask you to care," he said with less assertion now, the pitch of his voice uneven.

Graham felt so deeply unworthy of the other's affection that all he could do was self-sabotage — and push away the only good thing to happen to him in years.

Letting out deep a breath he even hadn't known he was holding, Frederick pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You're not an island, Will! This dark and brooding act you have going on is beyond childish and only detrimental to you — for once in your life, let someone else care about you!" Out of nowhere his eyes were glazed with tears, _angry_ tears. That only served to make Frederick angrier, and in turn made the tears appear faster, too. "Holding people away from you, and denying yourself anything good, that doesn’t make you strong. If anything, it makes you weaker. Because you’re doing it out of fear."

Slumped over like a scolded child, Will gripped the edges of the basin so tightly that his knuckles went white. Chilton was spot on, as much as he hated to admit that. Nonetheless, there was a stark irony in his words, one that Graham resisted broaching. It wasn't the time for that. 

"So — will you tell me what's wrong?" Frederick asked, still firm but also gentle now, his little outburst done with. He so desperately wanted to help Will, to be there for him in the ways that Will had been for him, to reciprocate his kindness and understanding.

Graham hesitated for no more than a second before speaking up. "I can't wash it away," he babbled, not turning back to look at his guest.

Frederick took half a step forward. "What?"

"The bl-blood."

The thick smell of iron filled his nostrils, metallic and jarring on his tongue, and his throat was closing up, making it more and more difficult to draw in each successive breath.

Watching Will struggle as he did, Frederick felt a little guilty for the tough love act, but at least he had gotten through to him. He hoped to be able to comfort him properly now, to really get through.

"Will, it's okay, shh, come here. Breathe in slowly,” Frederick instructed, his voice most definitely softer than Will had ever heard it. "Count to five. Out again even slower.”

As he sat him down on a chair Frederick noticed that Will's fists were balled up so tight that his nails must have been digging painfully into the flesh of his palms. He eased them open with his own fingers and took both of the other's hands in his own. Graham held him so tightly it was as if they might fuse together from the sheer force.

"Christ, Will."

He was still shaking, eyes red and watering. It was far from natural for Graham to allow himself to be helped, but there was an unfamiliar warmth spreading across his chest from the gesture extended to him.

"Th-thank you. I guess that your being a psychiatrist can actually come in handy."

"You don't need to sound so surprised at that," Frederick half-chided, "but I'm actually speaking from personal experience here."

"I'm sorry –" Graham cleared his throat and made a halfhearted attempt to blink away the tears welling in his eyes. He'd never been particularly good at veiling his inner turbulence, but right then... perhaps he didn't really want to. "– that I woke you."

"Don't be." As silence swept over them Frederick found a bitter taste at the back of his mouth.  "I won't push you if you truly feel unable to confide in me, but... I would like to help you, or at least try. Just as one victim to another."  _As you have helped me._

It really pissed him off, the way that Lecter clearly still resided in Graham's head. Again, as ironic as that might have been.

By then Will was slowly feeling a little better, bit by bit, controlling the in and out of every breath, until he felt able to divulge something more.

"I was there again." He spoke into the darkness, his voice hushed but possessing a harsh, pained edge. "I was lying on his kitchen floor again, bleeding out... fading away face down in a pool of my own blood." The last part was the hardest to say aloud. "Mine and  _Abigail's_. I was still clutching on to her, trying to save her."

"Oh, Will..." Frederick's voice faltered, the hurt in Graham's being reaching his own with some force.

"It's hard to shake that feeling when it crawls under my skin.  _Fuck,_  it's just... he stood over me, knife in hand, fire in his eyes, and he said that he changed me. I know very well –" his voice fell to a whisper "– that he  _did_. And I  _despise_  that so much."

It was unspeakably difficult for Will to be that vulnerable, to expose himself emotionally — but he couldn't argue, even to himself, that it wasn't cathartic.

"He changed me too," murmured Chilton, a distilled agony soaked into every word.

They remained in silence for a minute or so, each lost in his own thoughts but mildly comforted by the other's presence, with only the tick-tock of the kitchen clock keeping time.

"Damn, I need a cigarette," Frederick decided. "Do you want to sit outside for some time?"

"I didn't know you smoked." Will looked up, sounding genuinely surprised.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."

The truth was that Frederick _didn't_ smoke, for a good number of years. Desperate times, after leaving his job, had driven him back to that particular vice, one that had accompanied him through college — and ironically, medical school. Now there were times where Frederick would wake up in the darkest depths of the night and without a clue why, he could literally taste Hannibal on his lips, that distinctive blend of cooked blood and sweet red wine. The sharp taste of smoke was good at masking that, and unfurling a temporary serenity deep in his chest.

As they settled in the chairs on the porch, Frederick tilted the open pack that he had produced from his pocket in Will's direction, offering him a smoke in politeness but not at all expecting him to accept — which he did.

"I didn't know you smoked," Frederick echoed the other's earlier words.

And Will did the same, too.

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."  _Oh, was that true._

Only while passing over his lighter did Chilton notice that Will was out there in nothing but a t-shirt and shorts. He reached over and gently wrapped the blanket from his own shoulders around Will instead, and his heart wrenched when the other man jumped slightly at the sudden touch.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine. Thank you." Will hugged himself under the blanket with his free arm in a feeble attempt at self-soothing.

Frederick waited for him to open up a little more, if he was in fact going to. And sure enough, he did.

"They want me back at work next week," Will whispered a few minutes later, taking a last drag on his cigarette before putting it out.

_"What?"_

Zero to a hundred, Frederick sounded about ready to physically fight someone.

"Not at the BAU," assured Will, "teaching at the Academy."

One of the other lecturers substituting for him had pulled out and the administration had decided it was about time to coax him back, his 'compassionate leave' exhausted.

"Oh." Frederick consciously relaxed his stiff posture a touch. "Do you want to go back?"

"I think I do. I _liked_ my job, but... I don't know that I should get that close to everything that happened before." _I don't knew whether I'm strong enough._

The thought of returning to Quantico dredged up bitter memories of that world, a world of danger and darkness and pain. (As he had noticed a while back, Frederick Chilton, surprisingly, no longer felt to him like a part of that world; he wasn't tainted in any way. Far from it.)

"That's understandable."

"No, it's not. It's stupid because I know it _isn't_ close to what happened, really, it was when I stepped _out_ of the classroom that everything went wrong, and I have had months to get to grips with it, but... "

Just sharing that eased a weight off his shoulders, as did a deep, long sigh.

"Of course you have every right to be scared." Frederick placed a comforting hand over Will's own, resting on his knee. "That's only natural. But you can do it anyway, I know that. It's a part of reclaiming your life and if I did it, so can you."

Frederick had gone back to work that very week in spite of the prospect of Hannibal's persistent efforts to tear him down, even from inside a cell.

Will turned towards him and saw this man who had been torn apart, _literally_ , and still had this unbelievable resolve, who _always_ had. And who truly was so much braver than he realised for himself. It dawned on Graham that he admired him more than he could find the words for. He looked down at the hand lightly grasping his own, then back across up at Frederick who was staring up at the sky, the bright of his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. Will's own eyes traced over the curves of the other's soft, kind face. He sucked in a sharp breath, mind racing to figure out _what the fuck_ was happening to him there. All he had to do was catch Chilton's attention and lean in by a couple of inches...

But Will kept himself from acting on that unfounded urge. He turned away and the two of them only sat there together in familiar — and on Will's part,  _loaded_ — silence, as the sun rose on a new day and the birds began to welcome it. Only with the arrival of dawn did it occur to Frederick that he had spent the entire weekend out in Wolf Trap, and he realised the level of ease with which he had done so. The level of ease with which he could spend time in Will's company, and the true peace of mind that he gained from it. He was something special.


	8. Just Stay Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Note: panic attack ahead]

"I have something for you." Frederick stood determinedly in the doorway of the living room, but from where Will sat he didn’t seem to be holding anything.

"It's not my birthday again yet, Frederick," Will half-joked, looking up from the fly he had been tying.

"It's nothing like that."

The somberness of his voice caught Will's full attention; he put the fly down and turned in his chair.

Chilton stepped forward and handed him a small piece of paper folded in two, from his pocket. Inside it Will found an address, one that didn't seem in any way familar for as long as he star ed at it. Below it, the date of a few days hence.

"What is this?"

"It is the center where... _Abigail Hobbs_ is currently living. I pulled a few strings at the FBI, and well – I always thought that you would have seen her before she left, but... Now you  _can_  see her,  _if you want,_  that is. They'll be expecting you."

"Frederick, I... that's – I'm speechless."

"I thought you would appreciate the option. I have only nudged a foot the door for you, it is your choice entirely whether you step through it. All I can hope is that you find some closure along the way."

And so Graham set off early on a cool and crisp Saturday morning, treading snow with a four hour drive ahead of him. Still, he returned a lot sooner than Frederick expected. Perhaps goodbyes didn't take very long?

"...How was it?"

Will stood in the hallway, pale. As pale as a ghost. Chilton hesitated a moment before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah, it was okay, thanks for... and watching the dogs. I hope they didn't give you hell."

He escaped the other's grip by kneeling down to halfheartedly greet the dogs that had strolled over to the front of the house.

"It was that bad? Come on,  _Will,_  tell me what happened."

Frederick's one eye squinted slightly as if in pain, a question held in that flinch. Will swallowed hard. He had planned to say as little as he could get away with on the matter, but there was a voice inside that  _nagged_  at him to unburden himself; Chilton didn't even need to.

"I couldn't do it, okay? I didn't meet her."

He had set off with every intention of seeing her, and with every desire to do so one last time in order to express his utter condolence. But Will realised that even just meeting with Abigail would put her at risk, could blow her cover. She was in witness protection to be  _away_  from everything and anything connected to her past life. Including him. It would have been imposing where he had no right to. Will tried to articulate that sentiment.

"I don't mean to act ungrateful, I do appreciate what you did for me, but I  _couldn't_."

"It was your decision to make. You didn't want to see her?"

"I did. God, I  _so_  wanted to see her getting a chance at living a normal, maybe even happy life.  But that's just it, Abigail deserves a  _real_  chance to start over. A clean break from me, as well as...  _him_. As well as her father."

"Don't group yourself with –"

"I have hardly been a positive influence on her."

Frederick still opposed Will's reasoning. "But that is not your fault –"

"That's besides the point!"

He hadn't meant to raise his voice but Will's tone was enough to make it clear that this was the last thing he would say on the matter. Frederick acquiesced... to a point.

"I won't say anything more, but Will — you can't carry that all with you for the rest of your life," he maintained, avoiding condescension but displaying real concern. "You're a good man, as much as you choose to deny that."

"The main problem here," he explained through gritted teeth, "is _not knowing_ who I am. My... empathy disorder –" Frederick tutted and Will lost his train of thought. "What?"

"There's no such thing as an empathy _disorder_. Frankly, it's more of his  _drivel_. I am not submitting that what you have is an incredible gift, because I am sure that it doesn't feel like one, perhaps  _most_  of the time, but there's nothing wrong with you. There is nothing  _wrong_  with being a little different."

"I'm more than a little different. Whatever I am, it lends itself to..." He stopped short of saying finishing that sentence because he didn’t know which of the words floating around in his head fit best.

"It lends itself to manipulation," Frederick finished Will's thought, well aware that he himself had once been one of those doctors more than ready to exploit Will's gift for his own profit. "I understand that. But that's _not your fault._ How many different ways do I have to say it?"

"Can we just...  _not_  talk about it?"

One of the reasons he had become friendly with Chilton was that they had both endured similar hardships, but the last thing he needed was a constant reminder of those. While Will appreciated the efforts to console him, he knew they were doomed to fail. Better not to waste Frederick's time trying at all.

Duly respecting his wishes, Frederick did in fact promptly shut up about it. He inwardly hoped that Will wasn't annoyed at him for his persistence, he knew that sometimes he had trouble knowing when to _shut the fuck up_. Although, as he had just displayed, Will tended to have a problem with the opposite... they made quite the pair.

Considering the roadblocks that Will had been putting up to any lines of serious conversation, Frederick made another suggestion that he hoped might unburden him, if only a little. He reached into the front pocket of his slacks and waved the box of Monte Carlos that he pulled out.

Will knew he shouldn't, but this was becoming quite routine — it seemed that Frederick was a bad influence in that regard. With a sharp nod, Will traced his steps back to the front door, a hand coming up to grasp the handle. He looked back at Chilton, who hadn't moved an inch.

"You must be joking. I am definitively _not_ sitting outside; it is  _freezing_ out there."

So they smoked side by side out of the biggest window facing out the front of the house, alternate puffs of smoke dissipating into the cold night air and being carried away by the wind. Comfortable. Quiet and calm.

...Until Frederick caught a sight of spider crawling up the window frame, far too big to just ignore and disgustingly hairy, too.

"Oh...  _ugh."_

He winced, shuffling backwards and twisting his arm around to reach the latch and open the window further, hoping it would take that exit route. It didn't.

"It's alright, I've got it." With gentle hands, Will picked up the spider before releasing it on the windowsill outside, a soft smile lingering on his lips as it scuttered away. "No harm done..." he murmured under his breath without even realising that he was.

One of the smaller dogs marched up to them, curious, and Will distracted him from investigating — and thus likely eating — the spider, drawing his attention away by petting his head until the spider escaped safely.

Frederick knew that the horrible, unthinkable things that Will had been through had changed him. It was clear in the way that he held himself, a permanent, unyielding burden on his shoulders. But to remain so soft and caring and believe in even the faintest glimmer of goodness in the world, even though he couldn't see that for himself...

Something tightened in Chilton's chest, and it wasn't anything to do with the cigarette smoke that swirled around them. He didn't know why those thoughts about Will Graham affected him so strongly, but he couldn't deny that they did.

He would never let them escalate too far though, knowing what he did, carrying what he was.  _Never._

* * * * *

"How did you know that I like... uh..."

Will almost burst out laughing at the mortification written all over Frederick's face, but he held it back. So he was into musicals,  _big deal._

"Between one look at the contents of the CD collection at your house and hearing you sing showtunes in the shower, it didn't exactly take my investigating cap to figure it out. I know that your birthday is months away but there's no better time than the present."

Eying the tickets in his hands, Frederick began to regain his composure somewhat. Enough to make a snarky comment.

" _Cats?_  Very funny. I should have known. Your humour isn't exactly what I would call elevated."

Will grinned at that, he wouldn't have expected anything less from Chilton. Whose gaze was still fixed on the tickets.

"There are  _two_  tickets here." For stating the obvious, he sounded surprised.

"I know that. For you to take someone with you."

Surely that was the done thing to do, to gift tickets such as those in a pair rather than alone. Gift giving etiquette wasn’t exactly his strong point.

"Would..." Frederick cleared his throat, "would you accompany me?"

"Me?" Will looked genuinely surprised, but then again, he knew he probably shouldn't have been — there wasn't exactly anyone else Chilton might take. Still — "The ticket might be wasted on me."

"I’m sure that it won’t be. "

* * * * *

"Get off me! Get off, don't touch me —"

It all came rushing back; past events hit Frederick's being with all the force of a hurricane.

The way that the ever cold pads of his fingers would creep down Frederick's front, perfectly aligned with the scar until they stopped just short of their final destination.

The way that his grip would tighten around his throat, not enough to hurt Frederick but enough that he would know that he very well could. 

The way that he would pin his wrists down and be so rough with him that his eyes would water from being taken, claimed, owned. 

Lecter clearly got off on the power, whatever level it was that that came on. Physical, sexual, intellectual. And Chilton? He had longed to belong right there, in Hannibal's arms, beneath him but honoured to be with him, in every sense of the word.

But he wasn't there anymore.

"Frederick? It's me, it's Will, you're alright, you're okay..."

"Oh, oh... Will, Will,  _wait_ , stop."

He was suddenly pulling away, tearing himself from Will's grasp, rubbing at his right wrist, looking as pale as if he'd seen a ghost... and that wasn't far from the truth. After a few moments of white-hot panic, Frederick understood that he was stood in his own living room; they had only just returned from the show. All that had happened was that he had tripped up, slid on his new shoes across the polished wooden floor and Will had quickly grabbed ahold of his wrist to steady him, then his whole body when he stumbled back, encircling him in his arms.

"Are you alright?" Will asked, arms reaching out again but hesitant to step forward and actually make contact with the other man.

"I just, I need a minute."

It was awful. Frederick felt so bare and  _exposed_ , and under the influence of a sudden urge to run away as his chest tightened with discomfort, bringing him right to the cusp of a full-blown panic attack. "I'm going to g– to get a glass of water."

Will was still standing in the exact same place  when he returned, his brows furrowed in confusion — and his eyes filled with overwhelming concern.

"Okay, I'm okay," Frederick smiled weakly, not fooling Graham one bit. His hands were shaking, hesitation colouring his every move.

"No, Frederick, you're not –"

"It's fine, I just felt a little dizzy..."

"No. I know –"

"Will,  _don't,"_ His body tensed up, hands balled into fists as they fell away from Will, who also took a small step back.

"I won't," he conceded, "but I don't know  _what_  I'm supposed to do."

Frederick sounded defeated. He was closing up, drawing shields over himself as he folded his arms across his chest. "Perhaps you should just go home, then."

"I'm not doing  _that_." Will combated Frederick's retreat with a measured, sweet softness.

And so they just stood there, both looking at each other with a painful emptiness in their eyes. They were stuck in a stalemate.

"I'm not going to make you say anything you don't want to," Will whispered, stepping closer. "Can I make you a cup of coffee? Fetch some more water?"

"No... no, just..." Frederick’s next words were barely audible, like a secret whispered into the little space between them. "Just  _stay here._ " His voice went up almost imperceptibly at the end, as though those words were being pitched as something of a question.

Frederick couldn't see the faint hint of a smile that curled up the corners of Will's lips as he slowly, gently, reached his arms out to engulf Frederick's tense body in a comforting hug. Soon, all of his muscles began to relax, slowly, he let himself be embraced, melted into the solid warmth of Will's arms.

They remained like that, two bodies entwined, for moment after moment. Until it was easier for Frederick to breathe again, until their breathing fell into a calm, synchronised rhythm. Until Will's breath against the back of his neck was all that he could feel, that and the confidence with which he held him in his arms.

Something about him made everything else seem  _defeatable_.

There, in Will, was someone who had seen him at his weakest. At his ugliest. And he was still there, he was  _on his side_. After all that Frederick had lost, he couldn't deny the fact that Will's companionship meant the world to him.

"He's insidious, isn't he?" whispered Will, and it jerked the other man back into reality. "I know. But Hannibal, he... he can't hurt you anymore."

_I wouldn't ever let him._

Once the hug had broken apart naturally, they had ended up outside for a smoke.

"Are you... feeling any better?" Will asked, 

Frederick shrugged, bowing his head inadvertently.

"To be frank with you, I don’t know quite why I’m sat here drowning in self-pity when I did this to myself."

" _Stop_  saying that. What he did to you wasn't your fault."

It was as though Chilton wasn't even listening. "Sentimentality aside, surely you can't  _seriously_  deny that I have made questionable decis– no,  _unquestionably_  awful decisions."

" _Oh,_  as have I," Will returned, and he didn't much want to discuss those in any detail. "But what if I said that yes, our bad choices and decisions have had a part in our ending up here now, but beyond that –" his eyes lit up visibly with what looked like hope "– right here is...  _exactly_  where you should be in order for a future to occur that you can't even imagine at this point? Gold gilded maybe, the cracks repaired with... something of _beauty_."

"I thought that you weren't one to believe in fate."

Will pursed his lips for a moment and then parted them again to let out a quiet sigh that carried smoke with it. "Maybe I'm warming to the idea."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews are greatly appreciated, as always — especially as I’ve been feeling a little adrift with this fic


	9. I Feel Nothing

"I don't think I'll be very good company today." Frederick stood in the doorway dressed normally, but there was something off. His eyes were clearly tired with sleep and he squinted at the daylight flooding into his vision from behind Will. "I apologise, I should have called you. I am having an  _awful_ migraine... I get these sometimes now, after being..." _Shot in the face._

"Oh, no." Will took a small step forward, unsure of what to do.

"I can't do  _anything_ , Will."

Chilton's voice had a slightly sharp quality and rather than take it personally at all, Will had the inclination to look past it and understand the memories that this must have been evoking, the painful helplessness that Frederick must have been feeling. He chose persistence.

"Who said you had to? Just let me sit with you."

Will ushered the other man back inside. Shocked as he was, Frederick allowed him to do that and he was back into the living room before he knew it.

"I'll be terrible company, just –" he protested, nonetheless taking back his seat on the couch under a pile of blankets.

"What's new?" Will interjected with a smirk, sitting down beside Frederick, a gentle hand patting the top of his knee just the once — the one closest to him, the one that didn't already have Stevie's little head resting on it as she curled up against his other side. "I wouldn't call myself the best company either. And yet here we are."

There they were, and there they remained in near silence. Will found a book to flick through while Frederick half laid down and closed his eyes. He was resistant to any of Graham's attempts to make light conversation, as quiet and soft as he kept his voice knowing that it might grate on Frederick otherwise.

"What else is wrong? You seem hesitant about something."

"Who said that there was something else wrong?" murmured Frederick, eyes still shut tightly.

"You didn't need to. I know."

When he did finally open them, Frederick's eyes narrowed immediately into slits.

"Sometimes you really do baffle me with that thing you do."

"So, what is it?"

Frederick let out a heavy sigh and sat up properly in his seat before answering.

"I have been invited to speak at a prestigious conference about one of my former patients."

"That’s great," Will said, a smile beginning to form on his lips — but that dropped right off his face when Frederick grimaced. "No?"

"Lee — my ex — is booked in as one of the other speakers."

"Oh. How long has it been since you last saw him?"

"Over _fifteen_ years."

"And you don't want to see him again."

The uneasiness, the dread was written all over Frederick's face.

"Yes. But I _have to_ attend. This is a golden opportunity for my career and I'm _not_ going to forsake it because of him."

Chilton had already lost enough on that front on account of Hannibal Lecter; he wasn't about to sacrifice anything more without putting up a fight.

"How long is this conference, then?"

" _Three days,"_ Frederick lamented, "and they hold special events exclusively for the speakers, which will put us together in a rather small group of people."

Making him near impossible to evade.

Granted, it wasn't easy to see a way past this but maybe, Will thought, there was a bearable way through it.

"Can you... take a plus one to these things?" he asked, an idea beginning to take shape in his mind.

"Yes — oh _fantastic,_  that means that his husband will most likely be in attendance too, thank you so much for making me realise that."

"Sorry." Will scratched his head with two fingers. "What I meant was that, uh... I could come with you, if you wanted that." He rushed to add, "As a friend."

"Oh." Frederick turned to face him then, brows raised in disbelief. "You would really do that for me?"

Graham nodded, lips downturned in a carefree manner as if to play down the offer he had just made. 

"Will there be open bars at the events?"

Chilton nodded back in response, wearing a blank expression on his face, still too surprised to fully register what was happening.

"Then I'm there."

* * * * *

Frederick’s laptop was open on TattleCrime.com — displaying yet another in a long line of sleazy articles from Freddie Lounds. Will's eyes were first drawn to a photograph of the two of them leaving Frederick's car to enter a restaurant, and then another of them talking and laughing along Broadway. He skimmed the first few lines of text before returning to the title of the piece.

"' _Dinner And A Show: An Unlikely Relationship Emerges From The Shared Bond of Victimhood.'"_

"It's not the furthest reach she has made, considering the photographs," Will noted, his voice low as he looked up at Frederick. In actuality the two of them  _had_  formed some kind of bond, even if it wasn't of the type that Lounds was insinuating — no,  _declaring_   _—_  with absolutely no sign of tact.

Chilton bit on his lower lip in anxious embarrassment. "Perhaps we shouldn't go out like th–"

"Frederick. I don't really care what it is that other people think. I never have. Do you?"

He worried the hem of his shirt between two fingers, suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of emotion he hadn't seen approaching on the horizon.

"So you'll still come to the conference with me? You don't have to, if –"

Will silenced the other with a raised hand. 

"I said I'd be there and I meant it. Hopefully it does make the experience easier for you."

"Thank you," said Chilton in reply, clearly moved by the gesture. "As someone who has not exactly had a wealth of friends in the the past... I'm just – what I'm trying to say is that –" he looked up, finally, "– I have really come to value our friendship, Will."

"As have I, Frederick."

With the way that he stressed those words Graham indeed reinforced the importance of their friendship, but also reinforced that it was  _just that_. A regular friendship with nothing more.

Because convincing himself of that was his only way of protecting himself from the indisputable flutter in his chest, from the physical pullthat felt like some kind of string connecting the two of them. It was the only way that enabled them to go on as they were.

* * * * *

The last time Frederick had seen Will wearing a suit was at Hannibal's trial, and the only other time before that was at his own. Hardly the brightest memories. This suit was most definitely different, it looked newer with a more fashionable (tighter) fit and a faint brown pinstripe pattern on the dark grey fabric. Chilton was surprised, pleasantly so.

"You scrub up well," he couldn't keep himself from remarking as he closed the front door behind himself, his gaze barely short of ogling.

"You've scrubbed down enough when over at mine; I thought that it was probably my time to... _this_." Will gestured at his clothes.

Frederick only grinned in response, looking him up and down. His shoes were even freshly polished; it seemed that Will intended to be quite the arm candy.

The drive out of the city flew by thanks to good conversation and the absence of traffic. They arrived at the venue just after eight — fashionably late as fully intended on Chilton's part. Having checked into the hotel and dashed up to their suite only long enough to drop off their belongings, they returned to the lobby before making their way up the marble steps into the grand hall for the welcome drink reception.

In spite of the running around and the nerves that had set in a while back, Frederick felt a little calmer and a lot more put together just by having Will there by his side.

"Thank you, for coming here with me."

"It's alright, Frederick. I understand this must be difficult for you. This is me being... supportive, I suppose." He cleared his throat, awkwardness unavoidably seeping into his being. "Now, if you need me — I'll be in the corner of the room where the drinks are, drinking myself silly."

Will smiled at him encouragingly as their paths diverged, staying true to his word and making straight for the drinks. Frederick endured some light conversation with a small group of acquaintances before deciding that he most certainly needed a drink too. He found his friend exactly where he said he'd be, already on his third drink himself.

"That's him over there," Chilton hissed, a quiver in his voice, eyebrows raised in alarm as he threw his head back in the direction of two men and a woman talking in another corner of the banquet room.

One of the men looked to be a septuagenarian at the very least, which made it patently clear which of the three was in fact Chilton’s ex-boyfriend. Will inspected him as closely as he could from across the room; he didn't look to be anything special. Of course, he was a picture of class and forced, overly stylised 'sophistication'. Light brown hair styled perfectly without a single lock out in place, double breasted suit complete with an air of self-importance. Alright, perhaps Will was biased, both against these psychiatrist types and in favour of his friend, having heard what he had about Lee's past missteps. God help him though, he really did look to be a total  _asshole_.

" _Fuck_. I can't do it." Frederick interrupted Will's train of thought.

On the plus side, he couldn't see Lee's husband anywhere... but for the briefest second his stupid brain indulged the thought of _he himself_ being there with his ex now. Lee was a psychiatrist of note in his own but slightly divergent field which had kept them from any direct competition, competitive types as they both were, and Frederick recalled how he had always seen them as something of a power couple. The grandiose delusions of his younger self seemed ridiculously foolish now.

"You _can_ do this." Will tilted his head and leaned over to steal Frederick's gaze from his ex. "You don't have to, though. You don't _need_ to prove anything to him, or to anyone."

"I do, though. Maybe later," Frederick decided, grabbing the fullest glass of champagne in his sight and setting off again to speak with an old acquaintance who was waving him over.

Will watched after him concernedly before swiftly switching out his own empty glass for more champagne.

The place really was filled with pompous, showy types, he observed from his vantage point. Then again, Will was in receipt of almost as many curious glances as he doled out, but was surprised at how no one took it upon themselves to approach him directly. Grateful too, of course.

He ambled across the room slowly, one eye on Frederick to make sure he wasn't imploding internally. He seemed not to be. After a few minutes of awkward small talk with a fairly benevolent professor he had met at some conference years ago, he gravitated back towards the drinks. Not really looking where he was going — eyes focused on his destination — he bumped right into the side of someone who must have had a similar idea.

"Sorry –" they both said in unison and Will glanced up at this other person.

 _Oh fuck,_ that was him.

Shaken, he gestured for Lee to take a glass first. "Go ahead."

Will then claimed one for himself, noticing it was only two-thirds full just as all the others. He silently wished they'd fill them up higher.

"Do I know you?" the other asked, brows furrowed in thought. "Uh..."

"Will Graham." Will extended his hand.

"It's nice to meet you, I'm Dr Liam Griffin."

They shook hands briefly and he managed a facial expression resembling a smile.

"You too." 

"Will, I must say that even your name sounds familiar – _oh."_

The penny had dropped.

"Yes," Will filled the silence of Liam's realisation. "Infamy is quite the unforgiving beast."

"I wouldn't call it infamy; if I understand correctly, you were not at fault as such, you were a _victim_ of Hannibal Lecter."

_Would that it were so simple._

"Hmm, yes," he agreed, before not very gracefully taking a big sip of the liquid courage in his hand. "I was still entangled in his whole web. Still a part of the cursed story."

"Right..." Liam cocked his head to one side, looked at Will in a way that made his skin crawl, like he was nothing more than a specimen. A classic psychiatrist trait, Graham had learned from his previous experience. "I would have thought you'd have had enough of psychiatrists, in that case."

"No, uh – I'm not here for anything related to... _that_ , I'm only accompanying a... friend."

"Oh, right."

Would Liam understand immediately who Will's friend in fact was? Chilton's involvement in the same case was also public knowledge — though only through his professional role and partly as a former 'friend' of Hannibal Lecter's. His name had _not_ been released to the press upon his wrongful arrest, thanks to Jack Crawford's rightly held suspicions.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Will. I hope to see you around over the next few days. Have a good night."

"You too, Li– Liam."

Liam.

Short for William.

WILLIAM GRIFFIN.

**_W G_ **

_Holy fuck._

* * * * *

"Frederick – are you alright?"

Chilton looked up from where he was sat on the wall of a flower bed, and shuffled over to make space for Will to sit beside him in 'the smoking area'.

"Uh, yes. I'm fine. I just needed some fresh air."

The air definitely didn't smell fresh considering Chilton had probably only just put his cigarette out but Will let it go, sitting down on his left.

"Was it too much to be in there with him?"

"The opposite." There he was, in the same place as Lee after years and years and it was anti-climactic to say the least. "I feel nothing, being around him again. And, I don't know, it's almost disappointing. I just wanted to feel, uh, to feel _something,_ be it nostalgia or rage. God, that's _pathetic,_ isn't it?"

Hannibal had left him completely hollow inside, devoid of positive or negative emotion, hardened. In fact, the closest he had come to feeling anything was with Will beside him. Frederick had really grown to care for him, and he truly appreciated his presence in his life. 

"It's a good thing, to not feel anything," Will stressed, "it means that you really have moved on from him."

"It doesn't change anything."

That wasn't strictly true. It did. As Freddie Lounds had hypothesised, there _was_ something between him and Will that was more than their shared victimhood — it was something he had _never_ felt for anyone else. Of late, Frederick had been growing sick with the fear that it was _Will Graham_ that he was destined to love, _Will Graham_ who was inevitably going to break his heart deeper and more irreparably than anyone had before. The resistance he had been putting up against his feelings was weakening by the day. By the minute, when he sat so close and cared so much.

"I may have an explanation," revealed Will, "for _a lot_ of things." 

"What's that?" Frederick scratched the side of his nose, totally oblivious about the bombshell about to be dropped on him.

Graham had purposefully sat in a way that meant that his right side faced the other man. He folded the top of his right ear down with one hand as the other brushed the hair behind out of the way. It was dark but there could be no mistaking the minute black letters marking his alabaster skin.

**_F C_ **

All of the breath in Frederick's lungs escaped him with a single exhale, almost as if the wind had been physically knocked out of him. Lips parted, he blinked slowly to see if the mark might suddenly disappear from his sight. It didn't. 

"It's _you_. It was always _you_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeep there it is!


	10. You're Different

_"It's you. It was always you."_

Every emotion Frederick had spent so long suppressing broke free of its shackles. _Was this real?_ His heart certainly thought so; it was suddenly thumping so loudly in his chest that he wondered if Will could actually hear it.

But Will had something else entirely on his mind.

"Could..." He exhaled shakily, stepping closer, under the influence of more than just alcohol now. "Could I kiss you?" he asked, finding the courage within himself to lean in and bump his forehead against Frederick's, a hand coming up to rest softly on his shoulder.

Frederick nodded, gaze lowered, and almost instantly Will did just what he had asked. Both hands wrapping around the nape of his neck, he kissed him hard, with every last ounce of himself and it was messy and Frederick almost yelped at the intensity of it first, but then he sunk deeper into the moment and _oh god,_ it was amazing — for all of the ten seconds it lasted until they came apart for air.

"Frederick?"

He looked up, brows knitted in question at the newfound concern in Will's tone.

"Breathe."

"Oh." Chilton seemed to have forgotten how to do that for a second there.

Will smiled fondly at him, clearly expecting him to say something more in response after that passionate, earth-shattering kiss.

"I don't really know what to say," Frederick murmured truthfully, sure that his face was alight with a bright blush.

While the olive tone of his skin went some way to hiding that, the flush on Graham's otherwise porcelain cheeks was much more evident. They just looked at each other, incredulous.

"Maybe you don't have to say anything. How– how about we just do that again?"

They did.

"And again, maybe..."

And again.

Eventually, _inevitably_ , reality struck. Pulling back from Will when he wanted to get lost in him instead was one of the hardest things Frederick had ever had to do. But he did it, he tore himself away, as much as it felt like pulling magnets apart against an invisible but mighty force.

"Wait." He held the other's forearms in both hands, as if bracing himself. "Will. I don't want you to feel compelled, as though you  _have_  to do this. I never did."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that you don't believe in any of this, you don't choose to have relationships, you prefer your solitude."

Will considered those words for no longer than a split second before coming to a robust conclusion. "Yes, this is unlike me. But dare I say the fact that I'm here, opening myself up, is testament to how strongly I feel about you. I have long forsaken my... _solitude_. This is different, Frederick. _You're..._ different."

For all his apprehension and caution, Frederick believed him. 

Which he was right to do — after all, this wasn't a sudden revelation in Will's mind. He'd held feelings for the other man for a while now, on a slow simmer that had reached close to boiling over on a few occasions, but that his rational mind had held back knowing the things that he thought he had.

Frederick wasn't used to being somebody's exception, to being seen as worth the weight of his baggage, he wasn't used to receiving such unadulterated affection. With the past that he had, he couldn't see himself as something lovable, but _oh,_ he was to Will. Will, the kindest, bravest person he had ever known, was stood there looking at _him_ as though he hung the stars in the sky.

"It feels so... this is _it,_ don't you feel that too?"

He did. Frederick felt the connection between them right at his core, so deeply entrenched in every single part of himself that it both excited and terrified him in equal measure. He had long given up on any hopes that he might find something like this; it was a shock to the system to say the least.

And then Will leaned closer again to place another kiss on his lips, this time nothing more than a little peck, almost playful.

"Can I see yours?" he requested.

Frederick gulped, taking half a step backwards. "Not here."

So they made their way back to their hotel room as swiftly as they could without rousing any suspicion, hearts racing all the way. They had barely made it into the hotel suite when Will began to peer at Frederick expectantly. Being directed Graham's gaze with such absolute focus was unusual, and it only served to ignite his nerves all the more.

He shrugged his suit jacket off first, throwing it over the couch clumsily, and loosened his tie. He unbuttoned only the top three buttons of his shirt — even though it would have been easier to unbutton it all the way down, and Will knew why. Still, he waited patiently as Frederick dropped the back of the shirt to reveal his left shoulder.

There they were, those initials right there in small but bold black lettering. Permanent.

All that Will could do was stare. Nothing had ever felt so right, it was as though the stars had finally aligned in the sky above them and they had found their destiny.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he breathed out, his eyes still transfixed on the soulmark.

"You!" Frederick shrugged his shirt back over his shoulder again. "Even if there was the slightest possibility that it was you, I thought that you didn't have another mark."

"Not having a mark wouldn't have meant that I definitely wasn't your –"

" _I know that._ I just – I couldn't imagine going through it again, like I did before," his voice dropped to a whisper, " _twice_... Why would I willingly subject myself to that?"

"I understand." The past undeniably cast a long shadow over their present but Graham wanted to ignore that as much and for as long as he could, even if it was only for that night.

"But why didn't _you_ say...?"

"I thought it couldn't be you," Will explained. "Before, I had always seen us as poles apart and when I began to feel something you had long since told me about _Lee_ , and–"

"Oh god..." Frederick rubbed his face with both hands, posture slumped. The shock was still potent, still electric in his veins. "This is too much to register."

"I can't disagree with that."

He dropped his arms and looked up at the other man again, mouth gaping open slightly. "Yet it has to be..."

"It – it is," Will affirmed. " _We are."_

"We are," Frederick echoed, believing it possibly more than he had ever believed in anything else.

They kissed with even more boldness this time; Frederick pulling Will closer with a hand grabbing onto his tie as they lost and then found themselves in each other.

"I guess I don't have to sleep on the couch now," Graham realised aloud.

Those words were poorly thought out; Frederick's eyes widened almost comically.

"Oh. Uh. Will, I..." he stuttered, shuffling backwards a step until his leg hit the couch behind him.

"No! I don't want to rush things either." Will waved his hands dismissively, having grasped Frederick's apprehension before he could even fully voice it.  _Curse his drunken levity._  "I didn't mean to be presumptuous — I meant literally sleeping beside each other, that's all. But if you're uncomfortable with that of course I can sleep on the couch."

"Sorry. I wasn't sure what you meant." Still, Frederick didn't struggle to accept that Will had no idea quite how  _sensual_ his late-night, husky voice sounded, especially when he said subjectively suggestive things like that. "You can sleep in the bed, um... of course you can."

Frederick let his heavy eyelids fall shut as his mind continued to process the night's events. The two of them leaned forward against each other, chest to chest, two hearts beating in sync.

"Speaking of sleep, you're tired," Will noted, his voice softened with affection that was totally unmasked in a way that it had never quite been before the revelation they had just been through.

"I'm  _exhausted,"_  Frederick agreed, and they both knew that he didn't mean those words in only a physical sense.

He stifled a yawn as he moved back away from Will, the palms of both hands falling away from where they had been resting on his shoulders.

"Why don't we leave the talking for tomorrow, then."

Still fazed, still _amazed_ , Chilton nodded soundlessly and went along with Will's suggestion; he slunk off to the bathroom to get dressed for bed. Very suddenly, like a punch to the gut when he looked in the mirror, he realised that he would have to remove not only his contact lens but also the makeup covering the dark pit of the scar on his cheek, and his partial denture. He would usually have avoided doing that at all costs, but things were different now. He had to hold some kind of faith in what they shared, and hold faith he did. 

When he finally gathered the courage to emerge again Frederick found Will sat at the foot of the bed untying his shoelaces. He had already changed his top half into a t-shirt in preparation for sleep. Frozen in the doorway, Frederick experienced and fought against a strong instinct to hide away. What won the battle was the way Will glanced up at him then — with utter, unbridled devotion. Just the look on his face was enough to make his long-hardened heart melt in his chest, the coldness that had taken hold over time so suddenly undone.

With a shallow sigh, Frederick headed for the bed and slid inside quietly, lying on his side to hide the sunken left half of his face in his pillow. Meanwhile, shoes removed, Will rose to his feet and shucked off his trousers — and that left him standing awkwardly in the middle of the room wearing only his t-shirt and boxers. He padded over to the other side of the bed to Chilton... but then hesitated where he stood, feeling as though he was exposing himself and encroaching on Frederick all at once.

"Frederick, we can take this as slowly as you want..." The last thing that Will would have ever wanted was to make the other feel uncomfortable in any way, and he needed him to know that — especially in light of the other’s past experiences. "I would never pressure you into anything. I just..."

Chilton nodded in acknowledgment, eyes soft and lips curled in silent assurance, immensely grateful for the other's compassion. "What is it?"

"Having you in my life, in _any_ capacity, feels like a boon," declared Will, taking ample time to stress every single word. "Nothing has to change right away –"

"I know it doesn't _have to,_ but I really do want you _here_... Will, _please?"_ Frederick insisted, and his request was most definitely sincere.

It had dawned gradually but he had come to a realisation of quite how much he needed Will beside him. How much he needed to keep him close, in case the fragile, _perfect_ reality they were living in might shatter and turn out to be nothing more than a dream.

His eyes were closed in tiredness, but he still felt it. He felt the duvet being half lifted from his body, the bed creaking, the feeling of Will's skin nearly brushing against his own as he settled inside. Warmth radiated from beside him and his nose filled with Will's familiar scent, closer than ever before. A hand found his own resting on his pillow and gently settled over it. Even then Frederick didn’t dare open his eyes, already much too overwhelmed to contend with the sight he would find if he did.

They both understood that nights like this one were the once-in-a-lifetime kind of nights. They had found a faint spark of something good through all of the misery they had been dealt. Broken as they had been by the same man, they were being put back together by each other.

Just as he was beginning to drift away into peaceful, contented sleep, Will caught a strange expression on the other's face — a mix of hesitation and wonderment.

"What is it?" he asked, intrigued as to what could have elicited such a bold but unique sentiment in the other man.

Frederick finally looked directly at Will then, deep into the darks of his eyes. He spoke softly but as though each word was momentous, a life-changing midnight confession.

"I had stopped even dreaming of finding... and here you are."

"Here I am. I never thought that someone would come along and care enough to climb over my walls... and here _you_ are."

"Here I am." He turned the hand beneath Will's so that his palm faced upwards, and entwined their fingers. "And I'm not going anywhere."

Frederick wasn't naive. He knew that what they were embarking upon wasn't always going to be easy; they each had no dearth of demons yet to be overcome. But he also knew somehow with unwavering certainty that it was going to be worth the work, worth fighting through their respective issues — and easier too, side by side.

That sentiment was well-communicated. Will's lips quivered with emotion and the potentially premature confession of love on the tip of his tongue couldn't quite slip past them. Regardless, he made an attempt to communicate just how much Frederick meant to him, by pulling their linked hands to his chest. It may only have been a small gesture, but it spoke more than he could find the words for right then. It was heartfelt reciprocation.

"There's just something about you..." Frederick divulged in a low, smooth voice, "that makes me want to try again."

"The two little letters behind my ear?" offered Will, cupping the other man's face with his free hand and brushing a stray lock of hair back into place with his thumb.

"No, it's..." Frederick turned closer to Will, burying his face in his chest. He pressed his lips against Will's shoulder as one might kiss their most treasured lucky charm. "...It's more than that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand that's it!!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone who's been following this fic and those who've been commenting!  
> I'd love to hear what you thought of the fic as a whole~
> 
> This feels bittersweet because although I do hope to write more of these two, because they're just too dear to my heart, I haven't got any specific ideas yet... (Might people be into more of my self-indulgent ChillyWilly?)

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](http://xevinx.tumblr.com) come yell at me about ChillyWilly


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